


Spyvember 2020

by Rae_Saxon



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 63,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27330916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae_Saxon/pseuds/Rae_Saxon
Summary: Let's try this daily prompts thing again!A collection of fluffy Spydoc fics for Spyvember!
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 350
Kudos: 138





	1. Clothing Swap

**Author's Note:**

> Between this and and writing on my 24 mini-chapter Adventcalendar fic, I think I might be insane, but here we go! I'll give it a try regardless.

Tricking the Doctor was always fun and games, until you ended up in the middle of a ridiculous, dangerous plot from _someone else_ , with him having his grand speeches and tedious moral notions, while you're clinging to a pole in the water, trying your hardest not to drown.

“Uhm, Doctor!” the Master called, louder than before because the all too familiar feeling of being ignored had returned in the absolute worst moment.

“One moment, O,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively into his general direction without turning around. The Master clung his arms and legs around the pole like a Koala bear, while the current tore and tugged at him.

The Doctor still had his back turned to him, talking to one of the giant frog aliens. The Master couldn't hear what impossibly important things they were discussing, because the water roaring around him blocked them out, but he was sure, absolutely sure, they had to be essential.

Otherwise he'd kill the Doctor personally.

Though, in all fairness, he was going to do that anyway.

“You remember that part of me not being a good swimmer, right?” he shouted over to his oldest friend, a slight edge of panic in his voice he'd deny later on.

“Swimmer?” the Doctor asked and he could see the eyebrows over his sonic sunglasses drawn together as he finally turned around. “What would you be swimming for?”

For a second, the sound of the water seemed to fade out, as the Doctor finally took off his stupid sunglasses and stared at him and the Master stared back.

“Oh,” he finally said. Or maybe he meant “O”. It was hard to tell when your chosen spy name was bloody ridiculous and your arms were starting to feel numb in icy, roaring water threatening to swallow you whole.

“Think you can give me a hand here?” the Master called back, so panicked that now, indeed, he'd never be able to deny it ever again.

The Doctor – the absolute _cheek_ – turned back around again to talk to the giant frog alien and the Master felt a sob rise in his chest. It got swallowed by the thunder of the current but to his infinite relief, before he could suffer from the same fate, the frog-like thing had jumped into the water and swam towards him, the water calming wherever it went, before it unceremoniously let the Master climb onto his back and swam him back to shore.

Trembling and coughing out water, the Master rolled onto the ground as soon as it arrived, scrambling away from the edge and the alien, just to be on the safe side, and then lay down quietly on the ground, trying to calm.

The Doctor leaned over him with a concerned frown.

“They did say not to swim in it,” he contemplated.

“I didn't exactly have much choice in the matter,” the Master replied dryly – The only thing about him that felt dry, actually.

“I've talked to them and it seems all has been a great misunderstanding,” the Doctor replied with a beaming smile, barely taking notice of his reply. “They'll be back on their planet in no time and all the waters of Earth will be back to normal.”

“Great,” the Master replied, coughing some more – His throat felt like raw sandpaper.

A few steps away from him, he heard the frog mutter something that sounded dangerously like “Humans are such weaklings” but had neither the energy to reply, nor should he blow up his cover as an unsuspecting human to retort something _incredibly_ rude.

Though he felt like it would almost be worth it.

“MI6 will be thrilled,” he managed to bring out instead, gaze going pointedly towards the creature. “The sooner they're gone, the better.”

A little smile tugged at the corners of the Doctor's lips and he quickly shed out of his coat and pulled the black hoodie he was wearing over his head to hand it to him.

“Here, it's dry and warm and you look like you need it. I'll help them fix their teleport back home and then I'll be with you, yeah? Just a minute or two.”

The Master mumbled something unintelligible and took the hoodie, quickly pulling off his soaked shirt and putting it on instead. The warmth was enveloping him and with a relieved sigh, the Master pulled the hoodie tighter around himself, put on the hood and crossed his arms before his chest, waiting.

It smelled like the Doctor.

Traitorous, wonderful smell of Gallifreyan nights long gone.

He'd be quicker, probably, repairing their bloody teleport himself, but here he was, having to pretend to be a stupid human to win over the Doctor and complete his plans.

The Master would've been worried, really, about how utterly unimpressive almost drowning was, if he hadn't seen so many of his companions play damsel in distress to stroke his ego.

Really. He was on the best way, wasn't he?

He took another deep breath, pretending not to care about the familiar smell engulfing him.

Waving the frogs goodbye (apparently their name was Haenorics, an ancient species living on a planet that was almost exclusively made of water - the Master did not particularly care and the Doctor did not particularly care that he didn't) a few minutes later, he was finally regaining his spirits.

“Incredible,” he breathed, pretending to be fascinated now that he remembered that that was kind of his role.

The Doctor gave him a little snort.

“You look like you've had enough. Want me to take you home?”

“Gotta take the car back...” the Master murmured. “In one piece at that.”

“So?” the Doctor asked.

“So, not letting you drive,” he replied and got up, hands burying inside the pockets of the hoodie, as if that could somehow drown out the cold and wet the rest of his body felt.

The Doctor frowned at him and the Master, realising a second too late that criticising the Doctor's driving skills wasn't something O would do, gave him a tortured smile.

“C would go mad if I told him I'd let anyone else drive the car, believe me.”

The Master turned around, trying to get walking but his legs still felt wobbly. Before he could fall, the Doctor had wrapped an arm around his hip, holding him by his side steadily.

“C won't mind if I hold you upright, I hope?” he smiled and the Master gave a shaky smile back.

“Probably not.”

Warmth was spreading from where the Doctor touched him, over his body and his cheeks and they walked quietly next to each other, while the Master silently cursed his name and everything else he could think of.

“You did well, you know?” the Doctor smiled at him, like the foolish idiot that he was, as they said their goodbyes in front of the MI6 building.

_No I didn't, you bloody liar_ , the Master thought, but didn't say. This was good. Lying was good. It meant he liked him enough to be nice to. That was rare, especially with that incarnation.

The Master sighed.

“I didn't feel very useful. But I'm glad it's sorted now, at least. Maybe next time we meet, it'll all be a little drier and I can show you what I can really do?”

“You were the one who caught wind of them in the first place,” the Doctor reminded him. “And you figured out where to find them.”

_Of course I did, idiot. I know how to operate a simple scanner._

“I'm sure you would've figured it out without me,” O replied, smiling gratefully.

 _Eventually, after half the planet had gotten flooded already,_ the Master thought wistfully.

And what a show that could've been.

“Oh,” he suddenly added. “Your hoodie.”

“That's fine,” the Doctor replied with a grin. “Keep it. You just give it back next time we meet, when it's all a little drier.”

With a wink, he walked off, leaving the Master with a vague promise that was usually reserved for all of his human acquaintances.

How quaint, that it was the only promise of a return the Master had ever gotten from him.

Being the Doctor's arch enemy was all fun and games, until you were trapped in a dark, cold prison cell with her for crimes you _technically_ did commit and then tried to frame the Doctor with, which, _technically_ , did work, except she managed to drag you down with her.

She and her bloody quick-witted tongue and that horrendous tendency to convince people with morals and common sense.

It was highly comforting, however, to have her sitting in the corner furthest away from him, arms wrapped around herself and shaking from the cold, just as trapped as he was.

“You couldn't just stop when I told you to, could you?” she hissed, because of course she did. Leave it to her to rub her moral superiority in every single time, as if he actually cared.

“Sure I could've,” he grinned. “But why would I? Now I got you right where I want to. Trapped while I...”

He stopped, irritated and looked around the cell to figure out where the weird clacking noises came from. Turned out, the Doctor was freezing so much, her teeth were clattering.

“Where's your coat?” he asked with a snort. “That horrendous rainbow thing you wear so proudly? Rainbow the second, as I call it.”

“I slipped out of it to escape when they held my arms behind my back,” she sighed and the Master beamed at her, all white teeth and predatory gleam in his eyes.

“And see where it brought you,” he chuckled.

“Yes, yes, I'm aware, thanks,” she gave back moodily.

Somehow, teasing her was less fun while she was trembling so much she could barely get a word out and so the Master fell quiet, sitting down the opposite corner to face her.

“So, any plans?” she asked after a while, her voice shaking as she tried to get her jaw under control.

“I still got my TCE,” he offered. “I say we wait until they come to get us and...”

“Anything that doesn't involve death!” she retorted firmly but he just shrugged.

“If you got any better plans, do tell.”

“Do you have a stun setting on that thing of yours?” she asked, nose crunched up as if in disgust and he rolled his eyes.

“Now, why would I need that when I can just as effectively kill someone?”

She raised his eyebrows at him and he let a breath out loudly, watching it rise up in a little cloud.

“Yeah,” he finally admitted reluctantly. “I do. Doesn't mean I'm gonna use it, though.”

He didn't want her to get any wrong ideas. Didn't want her to build up any wrong expectations again. Couldn't bear the idea of watching her give up on him all over again.

“We'll see,” she grumbled back, clearly not up to discussing this any further and he noticed that her lips had gone slightly blue as she curled up on the floor to a ball, trying to get as much body warmth out of it as possible.

  
The Master, not having anything better to do as they waited, watched her for several hours, quietly and caught himself checking if her chest was still rising and falling, while she lay there in absolute stillness.

It was silly, really. She had endless regeneration energy, it wasn't as if she was just going to _die_. Still, somehow he couldn't quite watch this any longer. With a heavy sigh, he got up, slipped out of his purple coat and walked up to the Doctor to drop it on her face.

With a confused blink, she sat up, looked down at the coat and looked up at him, but he simply shrugged.

“I don't feel cold.”

It was a blatant lie and the second he had taken off the coat, he could feel the freezing air bite at him through his thin shirt, but the Doctor didn't seem to have any energy left to argue. She wrapped herself up into his coat quickly, pulling it tightly around herself and gave him a tentative smile, the first he'd ever gotten since he'd told her who he really was.

_Huh._

The Master's hearts reacted instantly, beating so loudly and quickly in his chest, he was worried she would hear it in the freezing silence surrounding them.

“Thanks,” she said and he just shrugged, because, for once, he really didn't know what to reply.

Luckily for him, it didn't take too long for the guards to finally come and pick them up for their execution. The Master, having heard the steps, jumped up and raised a hand to pull his TCE out of his inner coat pocket, except...

He glanced at the Doctor, who gave him an utterly smug wriggle of her eyebrows, before pulling out his TCE from the coat around her shoulders, getting ready to aim.

“I hate you, you know that?” he whispered, as he watched her lean against the wall, ready to stun their guards.

“Should've just let me freeze to death then, shouldn't you?” she grinned.

The doors swung open and two guards faced them, looking around with puzzled expression, before the stunning beam hit them and they both sank to the ground before them. The Doctor dropped down, pulled out a set of keys and threw the Master one of their jackets.

“Hey,” he called after her as she was already fleeing through the open door. “My TCE. My... my _coat_!”

“Oh yeah,” she grinned and turned back around to him, grinning brightly as she momentarily walked backwards. “Keeping those. Thanks again!”

He broke into her TARDIS an exact week later, determined to get his things back. He could build himself a new TCE anytime, of course, but the coat had been a uniquely tailored piece just for him, and, quite frankly, he was pissed.

She knew exactly how attached he was to his clothes!

Stumbling through the dark, the Master sneaked through her TARDIS, stopping every few steps to check if he heard someone moving, but everything seemed to be quiet. He could hear light snoring from what he assumed was Graham's room.

On his tiptoes, he headed for the Doctor's wardrobe, carefully closing the door before turning on the lights.

The whole room was stuffed full with one fashion catastrophe after another. They were thrown into corners, hung onto hangers or neatly folded and piled over one another. He stood with a dry throat, looking around and then got to work with a heavy sigh.

Within the course of the next hour, he found a pair of his old leather gloves (that's where they had disappeared to!), a battered old yellow daffodil in plastic (he'd leave her that, it had been for her, after all), and his old set of sunglasses (she could keep those too, he'd grown out of his American phase a while ago).

He grumbled, slipped the gloves into one of his pockets, took one of her third self's frill shirts (as compensation) and left the room on quiet soles, heading for her bedroom next.

If it wasn't in there, it could be anywhere or nowhere, really, but he was determined to find it and bring it home.

That determination, however, faded remarkably when he found the Doctor lying in her bed, sleeping peacefully, her whole body wrapped around a piece of purple peeking out from under the blanket.

Was she... cuddling his...?

With a sudden blush, the Master stared at her for a minute or two, stunned, his hearts racing and his hands sweating. A sudden, illogical panic flooded him as a wave of feelings crushed over him. Then he turned around, forgetting all about his TCE and hastily shut the door behind her again, fleeing the ship as quietly as his urgency still allowed him.  
  
She could have it. What did it even matter? It was just a bloody coat.

She could have it.

  
Being in love with the Doctor was always fun and games – Until you suddenly got the very scary, faint idea that she might still love you back.


	2. Pillow Fights

It was a chaotic morning in the TARDIS. Graham was whining about lack of breakfast, the Doctor was exhausted and trying to trace back an interrupted SOS call, Ryan was teasing Graham by talking about food a lot and Yaz was constantly following her whenever she made another pointless loop around the console, far too active for the Doctor's early morning lethargy.

Oh and _the Master_ , the Master was still hiding in her bedroom, where she had left him after their sneaky night together, doing God knows what in her absence.

Probably a lot of snooping, if she was being honest.

She sighed, but before Yaz could ask if she had found something for the fifth time, the Doctor realised she had hit the wrong lever (again) and flinched back from the console as the column started to announce dematerialisation.

“So you found it?” Yaz asked, beaming at her and she awkwardly rubbed her neck.

“Yes. Hm. No. I just... accidentally... I guess we're going to the moon. Either of you ever wanted to see the moon?”

Graham and Ryan exchanged a look and shrugged, continuing their fighting over a cheese sandwich.

Yaz gave the Doctor a frown and she remembered, all too sudden, why she usually didn't like having cops on board. Too many questions, too much attention to her wobbly alibis.

“Are you alright, Doctor? You seem distracted.”

Distracted? Her? She had her best enemy in her bed and he was naked and wonderful cuddly in the mornings, all cute with tousled up, dark hair covering half of his sleepy, brown eyes. He'd do all kinds of mischief while she was gone and she prayed, prayed that he wouldn't decide he was tired of being in hiding while her fam was still in here.

Of course she was distracted.

If only that bloody distress call hadn't woken all of them up.

“Course I'm alright,” she gave Yaz a nervous smile, which she would probably immediately look through. “I'm always alright. It's just... a bit trickier than usual, really.”

It really wasn't.

She could still feel Yaz' eyes on her when she walked around the console one last time, finally focusing enough to trace back the actual call and get the ship moving again.

“Here we are,” she announced a tad too proudly for a third attempt. “Joglar. The Mockingbird planet. I wonder who could use our help here...?”

  
A wild chase from a giant mockingbird later - because Graham had eaten her favourite giant berry – everyone who needed to be saved from the hungry cheetahs invading the planet had been saved and the Doctor could return into her TARDIS with the fam.

She was still far too tired from... last night activities and all the action only furthered her exhaustion. With a weak little smile and a wave, the Doctor headed back to her bedroom, a bit disappointed that her sleep wouldn't entail all the comfy, comfy cuddling that she had expected last night, as the Master had surely taken his chance and left.

But she was in for a surprise, when she entered her bedroom and got hit with a pillow right to her face as a greeting.

Stunned, the Doctor froze on the spot, the pillow sinking to the ground before her and at the sight of the Master, still completely naked, sitting in the middle of her bed, _sulking_ , she quickly shut the door behind her, before rushing in.

“What are you still doing here?” she hissed.

“What do you mean what am I still doing here?” he replied, having the cheek to sound offended. “Where else would I be?”

“OUT!” she called, tugging at her hair. “Anywhere but here! If they find out...”

He gave her a devious grin.

“Let me sit here alone for another set of hours and I'll make sure that they do, love.”

“You could've sneaked out!” she called out, hands waving around frantically. “We were out for hours, why didn't you just...”

“Out to where, you utter idiot! To cuddle some birds? We left my TARDIS back on Earth, where I sneaked in, remember?”

The Doctor stared at him for a few seconds, unmoving, then straightened her shoulders.

“You had the whole TARDIS for yourself, you could've just taken it back to yours and then send it straight back!”

“Oh please,” he laughed. “Knowing you, you could've been back anytime, chased by a giant bird you have somehow offended and in desperate need to get into your wreck of a ship.”

“I was not going to get...” the Doctor started, then stopped herself with an exasperated gasp.

Fine. He might have a _bit_ of a point.

“What do you care anyway?” she finally brought out, straight back into defence mode.

“I don't, I was just bored. Went through your undies. All utterly boring, too.”

The Doctor snorted.

“You did not!”

He pointed behind him, where her drawer was pulled out to the floor and boxer shorts were spread out all over it carelessly.

The Doctor ducked down, picked up the pillow and smashed it into his face.

“Clean that up.”

“Now that you've asked so nicely... nope,” the Master replied, grinning as he spread out on her bed, completely naked still and for a second, she caught herself staring at him hungrily, then snapped out of it. They had done enough of that last night, she couldn't afford to loose more sleep over him.

“I don't have to ask nicely. You poured out my entire underwear.”

“You don't need it anyway, as far as I'm concerned,” he winked at her.

“Oh God, just shut up, I need to think.”

“You need to come to bed,” the Master replied, voice a little softer now. “You look tired, love.”

She was. She was tired. And the bed was comfortable and it wasn't like she could sleep much without him in it anyway... and the fam knew she was going to bed and wouldn't bother her for at least some hours...

But all the explaining she would have to do if they ever found out about the Master naked in her bedroom... she just didn't want to imagine.

“Come here,” he offered, now definitely a seductive tone in his voice. “You need rest, Doctor, how are you ever going to get things sorted if you don't, huh?”

Oh, that _bloody_...

Noticing she was being manipulated and not giving a single crap about it, the Doctor sighed as she climbed onto the bed, right into his spread arms, letting him cradle her and lie her down gently, soft, sloppy kisses on her neck the second her eyes closed and she mumbled something tiredly that came out in nothing but a mix of jumbled syllables.

The Master chuckled against her skin, his arms around her tightening and his lips wandering further down.

With her last strength, the Doctor grabbed the pillow she had thrown at him earlier and smashed it back where it belonged – into his face.

“Hey,” he called out, muffled from the fabric until he gently forced her arm back down. She didn't reply, just snuggled up to his chest tighter and he rolled his eyes, but a soft smile formed on his lips. “Fine, got it. Not now.”

He behaved after that, holding her close in his arms, cheek resting on top of her head and it was good, it was so good, she could hear his hearts beating, could feel how warm he was and could feel herself slip away, sink further into....

The pillow hit her right on her forehead.

“I hate you,” she mumbled, grabbing blindly for the pillow over her head and trying to slap him rather weakly.  
  
The Master, still chuckling, rolled away from her.

“Bet you won't get me!” he called and she didn't want to fall for his stupid challenge, she really didn't, but her rather comfortable source of warmth had just left her and she felt oddly alone with his grip around her waist gone.

And so the Doctor rolled out of bed, taking her second pillow with her, ready to attack with both hands filled with pillows.

The first one hit the shelf right behind the Master and a stack of books fell to the floor. He was cackling deviously, as he ducked away from the mess, grabbing the pillow to attack her back.

It hit her right to the chest and the Doctor, unable to bring up the energy to avoid it, simply raised her hand to give it another try.

She hit the window this time, the pillow falling down with a thud, while the Master had already crossed the room to get his earlier one back. He was so close to her now and she was only _momentarily_ distracted by his proximity, really, but it was still long enough to allow him another hit right to her face.

“Come on, Doctor,” he laughed. “You can do better than that.”

Her sleepiness fading slightly as she raised her last pillow in determination, she whirled around and threw it with full force.

“Doctor?” she heard Yaz' voice, right before the door opened. “I thought I heard something fall, are you...-”

The pillow hit her full in the face.

Giggling manically, the Master threw himself onto the bed, fists hammering into her mattress as he laughed in that dramatic, overstated way of his.

The Doctor stood there, motionless, and watched the pillow bounce off Yaz' face.

“I'm alright,” she finally brought out, throwing the Master into another fit of laughter.

Yaz' eyes found his naked ass lying on the bed, widened and she quickly left, the door swinging wildly behind her as she ran down the corridor back to the safety of her own room.

“I should probably... go after her...” the Doctor yawned. “Talk to her. Explain things.”

“What's done is done, love,” the Master grinned. “Just come back to bed.”

“No more pillows?” she asked suspiciously but the Master merely chuckled.

“Whatever for? I got exactly what I wanted.”

She really shouldn't support his behaviour. Really shouldn't give him the feeling he did this _right_. But she was so awfully tired and just lying down and resting in his arms was so awfully tempting... She climbed back next to him and this time he seemed to be serious. His arms were wrapped loosely around her and his chin was on her shoulder as he gave a gentle kiss to her cheek and settled down beside her.

“You wanted them to find out, didn't you?” she asked dryly into the quiet and she could feel the Master's grin against her.

“Sure I did. Did no one tell you it's impolite to your lover to keep him a secret? You hadn't even told them about me as your best enemy!”

“Did no one tell you it's impolite to try and kill your lover's friends?”

“Oh, all the time,” he replied, lips brushing her neck and leaving her with chills. “Maybe if you'd let me out of my little room once in a while, I might get fewer urges to kill them, who knows.”

The Doctor let her eyes snap open, eyebrows raising slightly.

“That a promise?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“Why not. I'm open to try something else once in a while, if it means more _you_ and less sitting alone in here.”

She kissed him with excitement, grinning widely.

“Fine. But you gotta let me hit you with the pillow if you slip.”

The Master snorted.

“So if I accidentally kill one of your pets, my punishment is a pillow? Noted.”

“No, that's not what I... No!” she called, suddenly sitting upright. “I'm tired alright, I can't think!”  
  
He gently guided her back down, nibbling lightly at her ear, his voice so clear and low when he spoke...

“Calm down, love. No murder, no accidents, lots of pillow fights. Deal?”

Relieved, she settled back into his arms. Would that mean more of this? She was fine with more of this. More than fine.

“Deal,” she yawned. “Now let me sleep, will you?”

  
He let her sleep. Whenever she woke up throughout the night, he was there, arms squeezing her gently and guiding her back into sleep. And when she finally was ready to roll out of bed, facing the new day - and a serious talk with her fam – he offered her his pillow.

“They might hit you,” he explained, biting back a laugh. “You're gonna wanna be prepared.”

She took it.  
  
Smiled at him.

And threw it at his face.

He certainly deserved it for _something_.


	3. Comfort Animals

Things had gotten a little complicated between them.

Usually, the Doctor would keep up the icy silence post ridiculous, deadly plot for a few months or years (or so she'd let him think – Perks of time machines), then one day decide she had enough and sneak into his TARDIS for what he pretended - for her sake - was apologetic sex.

It wasn't a healthy cycle, but it was a working one. They had done that for centuries. It was somewhat of a tradition.

And so the Doctor, the first time since she'd left him on an exploding Gallifrey, managed to track down the Master's TARDIS – which she took as a sign that she was invited – and stood in front of his doors, slightly nervous, but all in all, ready for the sex part of their cycle.

It was her favourite part, usually.

Except right now, instead of the Master, what had answered her knocks was a loud, vicious and rather relentless barking.

“A dog?” she mumbled, stunned.

In her mind, the Doctor went through several specific scenarios, one more ridiculous – and therefore likely – than the other.

Had he accidentally turned himself into a dog during another plan backfired? No, she was usually part of those. And he tended not to stuff two plans in before they had their make up sex.

Had he turned one of her companions into a dog just to torment her? No, she was sure Yaz, Graham and Ryan were still in the TARDIS when she had left it to “get some groceries because Graham had raided the fridge already.”.

Was he planning on murdering dogs? No, that was too dark, even for him.

On the other hand... was there any gain of energy to be extracted from dogs? She thought of all the dogs she knew. The ones from Barcelona and the ones from Earth. There were the Lobia people of course, but she was sure they didn't bark like that.

From inside she heard the Master's voice.

“Theta, for God's sake, sit down!” he called, before the doors opened and a hairy, beige bear of a dog jumped at her. Shocked, the Doctor stumbled backwards, but the dog wasn't bothered in the slightest. It had jumped on its hind legs and had two paws buried in the Doctor's trousers, while it licked every bit of her he could reach.

The Master huffed.

“Never does as he's told. Theta, _stop_.”

“I'm not doing anything,” the Doctor replied, too overwhelmed to think and the Master rolled his eyes.

“Not _you_. The dog.”

“You named the dog after me?” her voice was shrill.

“Theta. C'me here boy. Come here.” His voice went all sweet when he talked to the dog. With an excited bark, the dog let off her and jumped towards him, tail waggling as the Master actually got down in a squat and... stroked and patted him, ran his fingers through the fur at his neck a...- affectionately?

“There you go, come on, get in,” the Master said, nodding towards the door.

When the Doctor didn't move, he rolled his eyes again.

“I'm talking to _you_ , Doctor.”

“Oh. Right. In. Okay.”

She walked inside and the Master and.... the dog followed shortly after. He closed the door behind him quickly.

“I left it open once, you can't believe the chaos. Took me hours to find him, he just wouldn't stop running through the whole area. He'd probably explore the edges of a volcano if I let him.”

“Uhm,” the Doctor replied. “So he's... uhm... yours?”

Of all the scenarios that had immediately popped up into her head – Somehow _this_ hadn't even occurred to her.

He looked at her with furrowed brows.

“What on Earth is wrong with you? You've seen dogs before, right? You're on Earth so much, I doubt they somehow slipped your attention.”

“Of course I've seen dogs before,” she replied, not sure whether she should laugh or cry. “But they're... sweet and... cuddly and affectionate and loyal and you're... well... _you_.”

The Master stood very still for a moment, just looking at her.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” he asked with a very dark, cold tone and the Doctor realised she had said the exactly wrong thing.

“Nothing, nothing it's just... if I absolutely had to picture you with a... with a... pet, I would've assumed...”

“Would've assumed what, Doctor?” he said in that same tone, a threat lingering on the edges of it.

“Well... a cat,” she finished lamely, feeling guilt rising inside of her. “I would've assumed you'd go with cats.”

“A cat?” the corners of his mouth twitched. “What, because I almost was one, once? Is that where this is going?”

“Nothing almost about it,” the Doctor snorted. “But no, I just thought... you know... they're petty and bitchy and moody, can tear you apart with a lazy strike of their claws and boss everyone around...”

She'd at least prevented the explosion she had almost summoned, she could see it from the way his mouth twisted into a full grin now.

“Ah. But love, that sounds more like _your_ kind of animal,” he replied with a wink, before giving Thet...- _the_ _dog_ another pat.

“That doesn't make...- “ Something in the way he smiled at her made her hearts leap. “Oh, you mean... Nah. No. I mean. One bitchy, petty, bossy person is enough in my life, really. Couldn't get myself a cat and call it Koschei, really, that'd be...”

Weirdly appealing.

Apparently not paying her stammering much mind, the Master shook his head with a little smile and held up his hand as an offer.

“Bedroom?”  
  
“Right. Yes.” The Doctor gave... the dog one last look. “He's not coming, right?”

“Ew, Doctor.”

“I... I just meant...”

“Don't worry about it,” the Master replied, simply grabbing her hand and pulling her with him, apparently unwilling to waste more time on discussing his dog. “You're the only Theta coming today.”

This was a bad idea. Bad, bad idea. He had planted it in his head, to start chaos, no doubt. He loved chaos.

It was always a bad idea to listen to the Master.

Except that cat, currently sitting with his back to the Doctor, casually cleaning his black fur with his tongue... it was kind of cute, she had to admit.

“Oh, this cat... is a bit difficult.”

Until now, the Doctor had liked the woman working at this animal shelter a lot, but now she stood there with her arms crossed, glaring at the cat and despite seeing the red scratches on her hands, the Doctor didn't like her attitude towards it _at all_.

“It won't listen to anyone, won't let get anyone close. Scratches and hisses at everyone. The other day it attacked another client in cold blood.”

“Can I hold him?” the Doctor asked and it was worth it just for the woman's incredulous _stare_.

“I mean, if you insist... But don't sue us afterwards, I have warned you.”

“No suing, promise!” the Doctor beamed. “Never liked courtrooms. They're incredible boring. Remind me of home. And the air is always stuffy in them, have you noticed?”

Confused, the woman opened the cage door, clearly keeping as much distance to the cat inside as possible. She needn't have bothered – The cat still sat there, back to both of them, licking the back of her paw.

“Hello you,” the Doctor said with a quiet voice and stretched both hands towards the cat, gave her a minute to react to her.

The cat turned its head slightly, looked at her hands, then lazily turned around completely to face her. With something the Doctor could only think of as the cat equivalent of a shrug, it started sauntering towards her. Grinning, the Doctor carefully picked it up and put it into her arms.

The cat purred and rested its chin on her shoulder after a little second of hesitation.

“I'll call him Koschei,” the Doctor beamed at the stunned woman in front of her.

Something about Koschei made her hearts feel warm.

There was something special, the Doctor thought, about being loved from a little thing like this, while it drove absolutely everyone else away.

She wasn't sure her fam could share her enthusiasm for the new TARDIS habitant, however.  
  
While Graham was still reluctantly tolerated in Koschei's proximity, Ryan and Yaz weren't quite as lucky. Ryan couldn't get closer than five steps away from the cat, without it starting to hiss at him. Yaz couldn't even get close to the Doctor without Koschei rising up and baring his teeth and claws.

He was a jealous little cat, but the Doctor didn't exactly mind. Except that with all the time she spent outside of the TARDIS, she wondered if he didn't feel lonely sometimes.

It was really time for him to make some friends.

For some reason, when she told the Master on the phone, he simply wouldn't stop laughing.

“Come on,” she whined when he took a second to breathe. “He needs a friend, he's lonely! He won't let anyone close to him but me!”

“And you think a _dog_ is the right choice? Doctor, love, dearest, they're natural arch enemies!”

“Doesn't mean they can't be friends!” she replied quickly. “People defy laws of nature all the time, right? They could get along?”

The Master paused for a second, then sighed.

“Fine. Bring him. But only because I want to watch how Theta eats him for breakfast.”

The Doctor had her eyes on Yaz, who walked backwards and with raised hands back out of the room she had just attempted to enter, while Koschei stood in the doorway, guarding it.

Then thought back to the huge, sweet dog that had spent half the night lying in her lap and getting patted, while the Master had slept next to her.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Sure he will.”

When she knocked on his door yet again, Koschei safely in her arms, the Master opened the door with one hand dramatically on Theta's collar, as if to hold him back.

She had to hold back a laugh at the sight.

Koschei was in her arms – he hadn't even been looking, his head as usual on her shoulder to watch what was happening behind her – and raised his head slightly at the smell of dog.

“Cute,” the Master commented with a little grin. “So you got my name, huh? Sure you're worthy of it?”

He stretched two fingers towards Koschei and then lightly scratched a spot behind his ears. Koschei tiredly turned towards him, eyes narrowing, but let it happen.

The Doctor took that as a good sign.

Theta, meanwhile, was sniffling excitedly, straining against the Master's grip with all the might an excited dog could muster up, eyes glued on the cat in her arms.

“Should I just let him down, see what happens?” the Doctor asked and the Master, with an expression on his face that clearly declared her insane, nodded.

She set Koschei down and he gave her a glare full of indignation, before even bothering to turn to Theta. For a second, the two animals looked at each other, none of them moving anymore. Theta had given up fighting against the Master's hold and it seemed to be the calm before a storm.

Suddenly, the Doctor wondered if this had been such a good idea after all.

Then, Koschei stepped into Theta's close proximity and started licking over the fur in his face. The dog closed his eyes to protect them from the eager tongue, but didn't move another muscle to stop him – In fact, he sank down a little, so he could reach him better. Koschei sank down next to him, purring contently.

Stunned, the Doctor and the Master, standing completely forgotten in front of their pets, watched them... snuggle?

“Well,” the Master finally brought out. “I didn't expect that.”

“Seems like they do get along,” the Doctor grinned. “There you go! You and your clichés! Something like natural enemies doesn't exist! If you get along, you get along.”

The Master's eyes were still on their pets, but she could see them side-glancing towards her every once in a while.

“Bedroom?” the Doctor offered and with a nod, eyes still on their animals, the Master followed her, as she was already making her way carefully around them and down the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure they know that these animals are just one massive, obvious symbol for their entire relationship and at this point, I'm afraid to ask them.


	4. Mood Lighting

The first time it happened was when they were in a big fight.

One minute she was shouting at him for setting free a bunch of laser slugs in her basement two thousand years ago, the next the lights of the TARDIS just... dimmed.

Confused, the Master interrupted his half finished accusation of her having brought the laser slugs into his garden first, to ruin his perfect hedges, which was good for her, because it was true, but on the other hand...

_What the hell?_

“Did you just turn down the lights?” he asked and the Doctor felt a sudden feeling of dread fill her.

“No, that wasn't me!” she quickly called out. “You saw me the whole time, how could it have been me?”

“Telepathic commands?” He shrugged. “Seriously, I'm not in the mood right now, what is _wrong_ with you.”

“In the... in the... wrong with _me_? Maybe _you_ turned down the lights, Mr. I'm-the-better-telepath!”

“Well, I am,” he rolled his eyes. “But no matter how good of a telepath I am, I doubt that thing you call a TARDIS listens to anyone but your gaping insanity.”

“Well, apparently not to me either,” The Doctor replied with a dark glance towards her console, arms raised in outrage.

“Yeah,” the Master snorted. “Sure, love.”

“Excuse me?” she replied, cheeks reddening in anger. “You don't seriously believe I want you _now_?”

“Oh, I don't know,” the Master replied and she wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face, she wanted to wipe it off so badly. “If I had known that fights get you hot...”

“You'd have done what, exactly?” she retorted without noticing that she wasn't denying that they did – Nothing but an oversight, of course. “Fought with me even more? Hardly possible.”

“Fought with you with much less clothes on,” he grinned, stepping closer now with slow, sauntering steps, right into her personal space.

She quickly backed away, one step after another, circling backwards around the console with him always right behind.

“I thought you said you weren't in the mood,” she reminded him hastily, but he just bit his lower lip, still grinning madly.

“Changed my mind.”

“You can't just change your mind,” she replied feebly. After their third cycle around the console, she had gotten slightly dizzy and he had caught up to her – Now he was pressing her against the console and his proximity, as usual, did _things_ to her.

It wasn't fair – It wasn't fair how bloody attracted she was to this utter maniac of an idiot.

“I believe I just did,” the Master grinned. “Congratulations. Your mood lighting helped.”

He leaned forwards, kissing her neck and the Doctor managed to give him some glares between throwing her head back and giving him better access.  
  
“I'm telling you, that wasn't _me_!”

But he didn't seem to particularly care anymore, his hands were busy wandering over her body and with a sigh, the Doctor leaned into his touch, knowing that if she gave in now, he'd hold this over her forever, but doing it anyway.

After that, it seemed to happen frequently. She caught him breaking into her TARDIS, turned on the lights to shout at him and they immediately jumped into dim, romantic lighting.

He had broken into a grin and wriggled his eyebrows at her and no matter how many times she had proclaimed that wasn't her doing, she wasn't entirely convincing – Which probably had something to do with her getting on her knees before him and giving him a blow job regardless.

She had him tied up in her console room, trying to bring him to the Judoon to be their problem for a few days before he broke out and all he did was complain about how she could  _do_ this to him.

But when she started the dematerialisation process – and she was sure she had used the correct lever – the light dimmed down instead.

Well, she had him already right there, tied up and everything, so she might as well use the opportunity.

One day, she was just coming back from an incredibly exhausting trip, dripping wet from head to toes and covered in crusted dirt, she found the Master standing at her console, apparently attempting to steal her ship.

She gave him a tired wave and let the door slam behind her.

The Master looked up with a confused face.

“Aren't you going to shout at me or something?”

“No energy,” she replied shortly, peeling out of her coat and letting it drop on the spot. The Master watched it fall down with his widened eyes.

“Well, but aren't you... mad? I'm trying to steal your TARDIS here.”

“Yeah well, what else is new,” the Doctor yawned. “I think I need a bath.”

“You do,” he gave back quickly, standing up from where he had been hunched over her console. “You reek.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Long day.”

The Master spread his arms in obvious confusion.

“What? Not even mildly angry?”

“Told you, not feeling like it today. Why do you want me to get mad so badly? Does it give you a kick?”

The Master just shrugged, apparently losing all motivation to actually attempt to steal her ship while she wasn't caring and turned his back to the console, arms dangling loosely back and forth.

“Wait a minute,” the Doctor said, eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute. That's it, isn't it?” She whirled around excitedly, her exhaustion forgotten shortly. “ _She_ can't stand us fighting anymore so she made us have sex every time we started! And you...!” She turned back to the Master, pointing a finger at him accusatory. “You figured it out and you still had me believe you didn't know! Ohhh, that's why all your latest schemes were taking place in my TARDIS!”

The Master was clearly working on suppressing a laugh.

“I do admire the way your ship solves problems, that's all,” he brought out while biting his lips.

“Oh, go to hell!” she called out and... the lights dimmed.

The Master was shaking from laughter.

“Oh, no, absolutely not!” the Doctor roared. “I'm taking a bath. Alone. And that's all. Do what the hell you want, I don't have the energy to bother. And I sure as hell don't have the energy for sex.”

She turned around and walked into the bathroom with quick steps, fully expecting her TARDIS to be in shambles when she returned and not caring a little bit.

Traitorous, cheeky ship. 

To the Doctor's surprise, however, she did not step out of the bath to the smell of roaring fire burning down her home, but to the smell of... fried garlic?

She fastened her bathrobe and walked into her (barely used) kitchen to find the Master cooking spaghetti and pesto. The (even rarer used) table was set with two plates and he had even found some candles and lit them.

“Really?” she asked, a flat smile on her face. “Candlelight-dinner?”

He shrugged.

“You're tired and I'm a good cook and I thought, for once, I could be the one taking care of the lights.”

Turning around with the fry in his hands, the Master filled both their plates with delicious-smelling food and with a sigh, the Doctor listened to her growling stomach and sat down opposite him.

“Thanks, I... think?” She frowned. “It's not poisoned, is it?”

With a roll of his eyes, the Master took his fork, dug into her plate and ate a bunch of pasta.

“All good,” he declared after having swallowed and turned back to his own plate.

The Doctor's smile grew and she happily started eating.

He had always been a good cook. Unfair, how good, sometimes, but right now it was heavenly to have him here. 

“You're still not getting any,” she mumbled after a while, when he had poured her some wine and watched her eat her second plate. She felt a bit guilty, now, since he was being perfectly nice for a change, but the Master just laughed lightly.

“Yeah, I got that, thanks. Just making sure you get something in you and then taking you to bed.”

“Aw, you're gonna tuck me in like a child?” she asked but he simply raised her eyebrows at her, dead serious.

“Yup.” 

“Oh... well...”

Blushing slightly (from the alcohol, it had to be the alcohol), she finished her glass of wine and beamed at him.

“Tuck away, then!”

He pushed his chair aside and walked over to hers, offering his hand. She took it after only a second of hesitation, letting him lead her quietly down the corridor and into her bedroom.

“There you go, now take that off...” The absolute bastard pulled at her bathrobe and let it fall to the floor, leaving her completely naked. He let his eyes roam up and down her body once, grinning widely, before leading her to the bed with a gentle hand to her smaller back.

“Sleepy time,” he sang and she gave him a dark glare, except it wasn't all that dark though, considering how full and warm and nice she felt.

He watched her climb into bed and then, with a grin from one ear to the other, followed her in, pulling the blanket over both of them. His arms wrapped around her and his chin rested on her shoulders as he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep almost immediately, probably to avoid her protests.

She didn't have any.

Well, she had one.

“You left the light on.”

One of his eyes sprang open, then the other. With a little smile, he turned his head towards the ceiling.

“Oh yeah. Would you be a darling...?”

And her traitorous, cheeky, beloved ship had the audacity to turn off the lights at his command.


	5. Napping in inappropriate places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short, little chapter and a bit late, because I had a busy day. <3

“And now, Doctor!” the Master announced with his best, most evil cackling, “I shall press this button and end humanity within moments. Any last words?”

He stopped, finally turning back to her, excited for the torment on her face almost as much as he was for her fiery determination as she stopped his plan – As she inevitably would.

Except...

The Doctor's usually so beautifully expressive eyes were closed and his only answer was a light snoring.

Had she... fallen asleep in the middle of his brilliant plan?

Dumbstruck, the Master let the device in his hands sink down to his sides, as he stared at her, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Doctor?” he asked, voice a bit shrill. “Hey... Doctor! What the hell.”

He hastened towards her, shaking her shoulders energetically and she – reluctantly – opened her eyes.

“Huh? Oh, sorry, did I miss something. Had a long night. Some Krokonauts were trying to eat the people of... Everything alright?”

The Master was trying his hardest not to openly cry in front of her, trembling lips pressed together and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“The fact you even have to ask this!” he called out angrily. “What is it? Are my evil plans _boring_ you?”

“Well, now that you're asking...” the Doctor replied a bit contemplative. “They do always follow the same pattern, have you noticed that?”

“I...- Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You ally with some species that'll sooner or later betray you. Cybermen, lately, a lot of them. Make a plan that would work if you didn't work so hard on getting my attention before execution. Some disguise is involved that you didn't need to expose to me but do anyway, for the dramatic effect. And then you lose. Rinse, repeat.”

“That's not... that... what?” The Master spluttered.

“You have gotten a bit predictable, don't you?”

“Predictable?” he repeated, nearing hysterics now. “Predictable? Predict this then, you bastard!”

And with a swift move, he had thrown his device at the Doctor's head, watching her sink down to the ground unconscious, with a little wound on her forehead.

“Serves you right!” he called out as he watched the steady trickle of blood run down her face. “I go through all these efforts for you and that's how you thank me! No appreciation between arch enemies anymore!”

The Master stood still, no sign of worry except for a gentle biting his lower lip, but his fingers twitched slightly and he started shuffling his feet with every minute the Doctor remained unresponsive.

“Hey are you.. are you okay?”

No answer.

Turning back one more time to his monitor, showing the streets of London, where people were still roaming around, very much alive, he sighed, then turned back to the Doctor.

Quickly, he rushed towards her, picked her up and carried her to his TARDIS.

The wound cleaned and patched up, he placed his favourite enemy down in his bed carefully, pulling the covers over her and leaving her with a tray of food and water.

He managed to leave for about ten minutes, then caught himself running circles in the kitchen while listening to a life sign and simply settled to sit down at the side of her bed, waiting for her to wake up inside.

A few hours later, he had regularly checked her vital signs, the Master decided she was being dramatic on purpose. He still stayed sitting by her side, waiting impatiently for her to bother to open her eyes or at least mumble something.

Nothing.

Darkness crept in through the windows as night slowly made its way and he yawned and rubbed his eyes, but the Doctor still didn't seem to be in the mood to come back to him.

Not that he was worried at all. She was perfectly alive and that wound really wasn't too bad. She was probably spitefully sitting inside her own mind, giggling at his worry.

Except that he wasn't worried, of course.

Why would he be worried?

It was almost Midnight when the Master had fallen asleep, his upright position next to her sinking in further and further until his head rested on her stomach and his snores made her covers flutter lightly.

The Doctor's eyes sprang open.

“Oy!” she called out. “Master? Master!” 

She shook her shoulders vehemently, until he woke up and rolled off her with a grunt.

“Whu... whut?” he asked, voice sleepy. “'You 'kay?”

“I'm fine, just feel like moving a little. Go back to sleep, hm?” She gave him a quick kiss to the forehead and the Master smiled, his eyelids already falling back shut.

He loved that part of being her arch enemy best.

She came back to bed after, what he assumed, were ten minutes the Doctor had spent walking circles in his kitchen. Everything was a bit of a blur when he felt her enter the bed and tug at his blanket to climb underneath. He felt her shift closer to him and felt her fingers gently thread through his hair and went back to sleep with a content murmur.

He was being shaken awake again in what could only have been another ten minutes.

“What? _What_?” he asked, sounding increasingly desperate.

The Doctor gave him an apologetic smile.

“I can't sleep.”


	6. Finger Painting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, sorry for being so late again, I was on my feet all day, but here it iiiis! And I'm excited about it! <3  
> I'm giving you.... *drum roll* Established Couple SpyDoc babysitting Jo Grant's grandchildren!

“Whatever it is,” he called from the bathtub. “Whoever it is. Say no. We're busy.”

They weren't busy at all, of course, unless you counted sitting in a bath together, splashing hot water in the other's face busy.

Which he seemed to do, domestic idiot that he would never admit he was.

“It's Jo!” she called back, before answering the phone, water dropping all over the TARDIS floor as she stood there, naked and slightly trembling.

“Hello, the Doctor's residence, how can I and my gloriously grumpy friend be at your assistance?”

“Hello Doctor,” she heard Jo's familiar voice from the other side of the line. “I'm not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, no,” she assured her friend. “Not at all. What's up, Jo?”

“Well, you know, there's a rather important protest going on in Brazil soon... I'm taking most of the kids, but Lima is a bit young for it. Sarah's not around so I was wondering...”

“Oh!” the Doctor called out excitedly. “Oh! Yes, yes, yes! Please! I'd love to!”

She could hear Jo laugh through the phone.

“Brilliant, can you be here at seven in the morning, tomorrow?”

“Course I can, no problem. No problem at all.”

Jo giggled.

“Maybe let the Master drive, will you?”

“Excuse me!” the Doctor replied, voice high-pitched with indignity. “I can make it to the right time and place just fine!”

“Sure you can, sure you can.” She could practically hear Jo's grin through the phone. “Well then... I'll see you two tomorrow, right? You can do that thing where you trace my call back and find me? The flight leaves early but I insist on hugs.”

“We'll be there,” the Doctor promised. “Can't wait to meet the little one!”

“Great! Thanks, Doctor!”

“Hey, you know me! You can always count on me. Well. Most of the time. Sometimes. Anyway! See you tomorrow, Jo!”

“You started off well,” she heard the Master's voice from behind her as soon as she had hung up the phone – He was pulling his bathrobe tighter as he entered, handing her her fluffy favourite towel. “But then I counted at least ten different promises to be there. Didn't you hear me tell you not to?”

“She wants us to babysit her littlest grandchild,” the Doctor beamed.

“Oh, no no no, absolutely not,” the Master growled. “I'm the Master, I don't... _babysit_.”

“You do now,” she grinned, then let her face darken with a little frown. “Wait, aren't we going back into the bath?”

“The water's gone cold without you,” the Master sighed dramatically. “And so have my hearts. So, when should we be there? I'll drive.”

“I can drive just fine,” the Doctor called out, a hand on her hip. “I don't know why everyone thinks I couldn't make it.”

“Years and years of experience with you,” he huffed. “Now, do I have to call Miss Grant back or are you telling me by yourself?”

_I'm the Master_ , she thought mockingly right into his mind, grinning as he stood with two kids in his arms, playfully whirling them around. _I don't babysit._

 _Shut up_ , was his only reply, while he played “Where's the nose” with little Lima.

Jo shook her head in amusement.

“I see she's gonna be in good hands.”

“The best,” the Doctor reassured her. “Very very best, Don't you worry at all, granny. Go and save the world.”

“Alright then,” Jo sighed as she chased a long row of family members out of her doors, smiling widely as they all grabbed their bags and stepped out into fresh morning air. “I so love this part. Thanks again, Doctor.”

She hugged her tightly, giving her a little peck on the cheek, before turning to the Master, who was currently trying to fight a four year old girl off his shoulders, while she pulled at his ears and giggled.

“And thank you too, Master,” she smirked and he looked up at her with what had probably been intended to be a glare, but was in reality just really soft puppy eyes.

“You're welcome, Miss Grant,” he replied curtly and she rolled her eyes.

“I told you a million times, it's Mrs. Jones now. Or Jo. I'd actually prefer Jo.”

He grinned, though none of them could be sure if he actually was, as Lima had now moved her hands down his face and started pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“And I told you a million times, you'll always be Miss Grant to me,” he brought out through her fingers.

“Okay,” the Master called out a little desperate, while the Doctor laid on the sofa, feet up, reading one of the children's books with interest. “How about we play something different now?”

He had been pretending to eat play dough spaghetti for the past two hours or so, constantly kept busy by a very enthusiastic child, while the Doctor had been blissfully ignored.

“These are so cute, you know that?” she asked after finishing the seventh book, just as Lima excitedly called “No!”

The Master shot her a glare that, actually, was a glare.

She supposed it was time to do what she did best and, well... Save him.

“No, you know what, Lima? I think uncle Master is right. We should do something else. How does painting sound?”

“ _Uncle Master?_ ” he mouthed back at her, clear horror visible on his face.

“Yes! Painting! Painting!” little Lima shouted, immediately forgetting all about play dough and running towards the Doctor now.

“Okay, tell you what! You clean all this up with Uncle Master,” she shot him a grin, “and I'll get some underlays and paints out, alright?”

Nodding excitedly, Lima started collecting every little bit of dough, while the Doctor rummaged in the nearest cupboard for paints.

With a heavy sigh, the Master let himself fall onto the sofa.

 _Never_ , he informed her inside their minds. _Never say yes to this again. It's torture._

 _She's adorable,_ the Doctor replied cheerfully. _You're just an old sourpuss._

_Well, easy for you to say, she left you alone the whole time!_

_She loves you,_ the Doctor retorted. _She was having fun with you. Come on, I can tell you enjoyed it._

 _I stopped enjoying it somewhere along the fifteenth portion of fake spaghetti_ , he grumbled back, but she could feel the surge of warmth that had risen inside of him at her words.

The Doctor returned with a box full of finger paints in all colours and spread some old newspapers on Jo's table, determined not to ruin her furniture for her return. On the newspaper, she laid down a sheet of white paper.

“There you go,” she beamed at Lima. “Now pull up your sleeves and tell me which colour you want to start with.”

The funniest thing about the mess they were creating was the Master's face whenever Lima's little fingers splashed into a new puddle of colour and started spreading it on the paper.

“Only touch the paper,” he said for the sixth time or so. “Remember that you have paint on your hands.”

But Lima didn't care – There was colour on her shirt, colour on her nose, where she had rubbed and scratched and colour all over the Doctor, who didn't mind. In fact, she had given into the temptation and started painting her own sheet now, hands full with paint.

The Master watched with a shake of his head.

“Really, I'm just babysitting both of you.”

“Look!” the Doctor called out, completely ignoring him. “I've painted you.”

“No, you haven't,” he replied indignantly as he leaned over the sheet to look at what she had created. “That doesn't look like me at all. That's just a purple blob.”

“Yes it is,” Lima giggled. “That's you, Uncle Master.”

“Oh, great,” he shot dryly at the Doctor. “Your nickname caught on.”

The Doctor was busy frowning down on her paper.

“Well, I think it looks like you a lot. Look, there's your grumpy mouth.”

As she pointed at it, a drop of purple fell from her fingertips, drowning out the already weak attempt of his face completely.

“I'm fairly sure I'm not that purple in my face,” the Master snorted and realised only a second too late his mistake, when the Doctor had shook her hand towards him and drops of purple paint flew right into his face.

“Yes,” the Doctor chuckled, while Lima almost fell off her chair in laughter. “Yes, you really are.”

“Very funny.”

She could see the Master's hand twitch, could see the desire to pay her back, but his hand stopped moving abruptly when it got close to the paint.

“Ohhh, big bad Master won't get his hands dirty, huh?” she grinned as she got out of the chair and walked towards him.

The Master backed away quickly.

“Ohhhh, no, you don't, stay away from me.”

She caught him against the living room wall, with Lima cheering for her from her chair and with a wide grin, the Doctor let the tip of her finger land on the Master's tip of the nose once.

With a growl, he pulled her towards him, kissing her quickly and when she came back out of it, she could feel paint all over her face.

“There you go,” he grinned smugly. “No need to get my hands dirty at all.”

The Doctor narrowed her eyes.

“You know this means war, right?” she asked just as Lima jumped off her chair, joining them. “And it's two against one.”

“Oho,” the Master laughed in over-confidence. “I am shivering in fear.”

“You heard that, Lima?” the Doctor grinned. “I think he just gave us permission to.... _Attack_!”

When Jo returned to her home a few days later, they had tried their best to hide all traces of the mess they had created – Where cleaning might have been more effective, two sheepish Time Lords and a four year old human had simply started to spread out pretty Tablecloths and on surfaces where that wasn't exactly possible, they had created beautiful flower pictures out of the paint they had thrown at them.

There were _a lot_ of beautiful flowers.

Jo took one step into her living room, opened her mouth to say something and then looked at their clothes, covered in dried paint from head to toes.

“Next time, I'll order a babysitter for the two of you along with Lima,” she simply sighed with the air of a woman who had already seen it all.


	7. Cinnamon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Thirteen/O today, because it's been a year and I'm still crazy about them. It's a weird thing between angst and fluff but that's okay.... right? RIGHT?!

There was something in the way O kissed her that kept her coming back for more.

She wasn't sure what it was, but she was sure there was _something_.

He could kiss her sweet and gentle, those warm, sweet eyes constantly on her, lips almost only brushing hers feather-light.

He could kiss her rough and hard, press her against the wall, let her feel how much he wanted her, teeth biting her lower lip until he drew blood, tongue swiping over the wound as if to console her.

He could pepper kisses all over her body, nothing more but little pecks on her sensitive skin, or possessively suck until she wore his marks.

But in the end, something about it always felt so achingly familiar.

She couldn't quite place it. It was as if her mind itched and she could just not find the right spot to scratch to make it go away.

And so the Doctor let him kiss her again and again, trying to figure out what it was.

Not that it was a sacrifice to make – O was a good kisser. Great, actually. And such a sweet guy. Always taking care of her. Always listening to her babbling in fascination, always ready to give comfort and reassurance, even if she hadn't asked for it, hadn't even intended to let her _need_ show.

It's like they had known each other for ages.

No, that wasn't quite right, actually. It was like he had known _her_ for ages, while she barely knew anything about him. He was always sweet and kind and there, but somehow she always found herself wondering... wondering if there wasn't more to him.

It was probably unfair. She was being unfair, she knew she was – But truth was that the Doctor wasn't used to being known. There were few, so very few people in this universe who could look through her the way O could.

She had made sure of that.

“Hey O?” she asked one night in his tiny, stuffed apartment, head on his lap, as he ran his fingers through her hair softly.

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Everything, Doctor.”

His fingers didn't even falter, his smile never faded. So confident, so unafraid, but only in their quiet moments together, somehow, as if the usual nervousness he showed so often just fell off him around her.

Somehow, she liked that thought.

“How the hell do you always know what I need?”

There it was, the tiniest sign that he was worried. A frown, lining up his forehead, eyes flickering off her face and back to her within a second, so quickly, she wasn't even sure he had done it intentionally. He was so beautiful, so expressive and warm, it was easy, really easy, to get lost in him.

“You're not as mysterious as you would like to think you are,” he smiled after his quick pause. “I'm just good at reading people. And sometimes, Doctor, you're people.”

It would've been a good enough answer, it would've been, if it wasn't for the fact that the Doctor, too, was good at reading people and she had just seen him stumble.

“Something about you,” she sighed and his eyes widened, “something about you is just so _different_.”

“Hey, I already get bullied for that at work, don't you start, too.” He said it lightly, as if it was a joke and maybe he was hoping it would be, but she could hear his voice tremble.

Quickly, the Doctor sat up in his lap, both hands on his shoulders as she smiled at him.

“Different is good,” she promised. “You're great, O. Really. So, so great. You see more than other people, you understand what you see, such an open, adventurous mind.” She kissed his lips quickly. “You're proper special. That's all I meant.”

He blinked at her and with shock the Doctor realised he was fighting off tears.

“Y.. yeah?” he asked and deep, aching sadness settled in the Doctor's chest, as she realised how much society had broken down this man, for him to start tearing up at the slightest bit of praise thrown his way.

She rested her forehead against his, noses brushing, eyes boring into one another's.

“Yeah,” she promised. “And don't you forget it.”

“And you,” he whispered, so quietly she would've thought it was her imagination, if it wasn't for his warm breath on her lips. “Don't _you_ forget it, either. Don't forget about _me_. Whatever happens.”

He kissed her, then and something about it was different but still familiar.

It would drive her crazy, eventually, if it wasn't such a welcome, warm distraction at the same time, couldn't mute her endless circle of thoughts wonderfully.

“Tell you what, I'm gonna need a minute,” O said with a sheepish smile. “I'll make us some tea, yeah?”

The Doctor nodded.

It was odd. She hadn't thought O was the kind of guy to hide his emotions away, but here he was, fleeing from her with an apologetic smile and tears caught in his lashes.

So she was right, wasn't she? She knew nothing about him. Every time she thought she had him figured out, a new facet of O popped up, different than the last one, somehow contradictory, somehow not, somehow always able to make her feel like she _knew_ him, even though she hadn't seen it coming.

He was her constant own adventure to explore and yet he could make her feel at home and safe at the same time.

The Doctor sipped her tea, fried apple with the perfect amount of sugar and a rod of cinnamon in it, just how she had never told him that she loved it.


	8. Stowaways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor has a stowaway in her TARDIS. The fam think it's a ghost but she knows better.

“Seriously,” Graham called over from the kitchen. “None of you lot are eating. Ever. How come the sandwiches are always gone when I want to make one?”

Yaz, standing next to the Doctor, rolled her eyes.

“We eat sometimes, you know.”

“Well then, hands off my sandwiches,” Graham replied as he stepped out of the kitchen, angrily clutching an apple.

Ryan shrugged.

“I didn't eat any.”

“Neither did I,” Yaz commented with a frown. “Doctor?”

But the Doctor was utterly unimpressed, fiddling around the console and barely taking part in the conversation.

“Must be the TARDIS ghost then.”

“Wait, for real?” Ryan called out, stunned. “So ghosts are real, too?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” the Doctor replied, standing straight with a beaming smile. “Of course they're not.”

“So if it's not you lot and no ghost...”

“Totally my TARDIS ghost,” the Doctor shrugged. “I've been having one for ages. Bullied poor Lucie for years, tugged at her blankets at nights and everything.”

Her fam exchanged looks.

“But you just said...” Yaz started tentatively.

“There are no ghosts,” the Doctor confirmed with a little nod. “Just this one, haunting my TARDIS.”

“Great,” Ryan exhaled. “Great. And she tells us that _now_.”

The thing about stowaways, the Doctor mused, was that they only remained stowaways for as long as you didn't find out about them. The second you accepted them as part of the crew, they were in.

So she took care of not letting the Master know that she knew he was hiding in the furthest rooms of her TARDIS.

He would only get awfully upset over it, really, talk something about not needing her pity party and jump off into deep space with no parachute – They've been there before.

And technically, _technically_ , she wasn't lying to her friends – He had been her TARDIS ghost once. When he had died in the deepest part of her TARDIS, the Eye of Harmony, his residual energy had spooked around for years and years, causing trouble wherever she went.

Sometimes they even had had a nice little chat.

Well. Nice for him, despair-inducing for her – Like in the old times.

Now, whenever she was lying in her bedroom, reading while her friends were out or sleeping tightly, she did her best to pretend not to hear him sneaking into the kitchen, eating away Graham's food. She pretended not to feel his presence in her mind, pretended not to notice the meddling with her console whenever she returned from a long trip.

She had locked the console of course, so he wouldn't be able to wreak too much havoc or steal her ship, but that sure as hell didn't stop him from _trying_.

She deserved it, she supposed – She had doomed him to exile on Earth for over sixty years and taken his home away from him in the process. So when she had popped up twenty years into his sentence, she might or might not have pretended not to notice him slipping in, after already having expertly pretended not to know he lived right around the corner and would be able to hear her TARDIS materialising easily.

After that, everything went fairly smoothly.

Well. _Mostly_ smoothly.

Her fam didn't need to pretend at all, they had no clue what was going on, but after a few evading stories, they seemed to believe that unlikely story and started joking about a ghost in the ship.

“Does it have a name?” Graham asked after a sad look into another empty bag of sandwich toast.

“Nah,” the Doctor mumbled absently into her tea. “I thought it might be best not to upset it with stupid names. Keep it peaceful, you know?”

If they went around calling the Master “Bob” or something, he'd probably forget all about being here in secret and murder them on the spot.

Grinning, the Doctor took a sip of her tea and frowned.

“What is that?” she asked and checked the bag. “Ginger? I can't... I don't really...” She quickly shoved the cup aside. Getting drunk early mornings was probably not the best decision to make. “What happened to my Strawberry-Cheesecake tea?”

Ryan held up an empty package and shook it for her a few times.

“All out, sorry.”

“Out?” she asked in disbelief. “But I had just gotten out a new... Hmph.”

Yaz gave her a pat on the back and Graham nodded solemnly.

“Now you know how I feel, eh, Doc?”

Only when the door had closed and all her friends had left to get ready for the morning, she grumpily spoke into the silence of her kitchen.

“He doesn't even _like_ Strawberry-Cheesecake.”

 _  
Basically_ smoothly.

  
“I swear,” Graham grumbled as she took care of the little bruise that had started to swell on his forehead. “That ghost of yours is not half as peaceful as you would like it to be.”

“I'm sure it was an accident,” the Doctor replied, biting her lower lip.

If he was becoming violent towards her friends she'd have to do something and she so hated having to do something – Especially when that something was throwing out the Master.

“Fine accident. I had fallen asleep on the chair in the library with a book in my lap and I heard someone come in, right, the door stood open and all? And when I asked if it was you or Yaz, I just heard panicked steps and then the whole shelf crashed down on me.”

So he had tried to get away before he was spotted and reacted quickly to block Graham's view. Trying to get himself some books, the Doctor figured with a sigh. Well, life as a stowaway had to be boring – She didn't really have it in herself to blame him for this.

“It's just a light bruise,” she reassured Graham and handed him some ice. “It'll be fine again in no time.”

“Doc, one question,” he called after her as she attempted to walk away, hands in her coat pockets and lost in thought.

“Huh?”

“Are you sure it's a ghost? I mean, not that I'm questioning the insane anymore, but... which bloody ghost makes step noises?”

The Doctor just stared at him, not sure how to reply to that.

“I'm just saying,” Graham continued. “What if we got, like, a homeless person living in the attic or something. It's happened in human houses sometimes.”

“Don't be silly.” The Doctor forced herself to a weak smile. “No one wants to live in my attic. It's already full with the garden, after all.”

 _  
Almost_ smoothly.

  
“Doctor, come quickly!” Yaz called out, taking her hand and dragging her down the corridor of her TARDIS to the door of her laboratory, which had been blasted open. Smoke was coming out of the room and with a sinking feeling, the Doctor stepped inside to where Ryan and Graham were already standing, examining the damage with wide eyes.

“What... what happened?” she asked, sure she didn't actually want to know.

“We don't know,” Ryan replied with a shrug. “We sat in Yaz' room just chatting and then heard a bang from somewhere close and when we ran out to check it out, we found the room like this.”

“Oh,” the Doctor said, leaning over to what was left of her table and sniffed. “Huh.”

“What is it? Something you experimented on exploded or something like that?” Graham asked eagerly and the Doctor looked up at him sharply.

“Exactly,” she replied quickly. “Really shouldn't have left it unobserved, but I forgot all about it after the last trip.”

Graham and Ryan shook their heads in light amusement and left to get cleaning supplies, but Yaz stayed a minute longer, eyeing her with that look she knew all too well from her companions.

“Who is it? That ghost of yours? It's someone you try way too hard to protect, considering the chaos they cause, so who is it?”

The Doctor sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck.

“No idea what you're talking about. This was all me. No ghosts involved. Now, listen...” She squeezed past Yaz. “Try and stay away until I come back with... with some... radiation protection suits for all of us.”

  
There were upsides, of course, to having a stowaway on board, too.  
  
“Come on, quick, quick, carry her in!” Yaz called, a bit unnecessarily, since Ryan and Graham were already doing exactly that, and helplessly slammed the door shut. They could hear the slamming of five knives thrown at them and burying themselves into the wood.

“Lay her down, lay her down!”

Again, unnecessary. Graham and Ryan had already laid her down and the Doctor had put on what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“'s just a little knife wound,” she said and was confused to find her voice was barely louder than a murmur. “'s nothing.”

“It's _not_ nothing,” Yaz replied, her voice only shaking a little, to her credit. “You've lost tons of blood.”

“Okay,” Graham said. “Okay. What... what do we do?”

“What do you mean what do we do?” Ryan asked, panic in his voice, the hands that were pressing his shirt to her wound trembling incredibly. “You don't know what to do?”

“I'm not a doctor!” Graham called back, equally panicked. “I've never done this! Yaz?”

But Yaz was already rounding up the console, pulling several levers and pressing every button she could find.

“We gotta take her to a hospital,” she cried out. “How the hell does this thing start?”

“Locked it,” the Doctor mumbled, feeling oddly light-headed. “No hospitals... Two hearts... bad...”

“She has a point,” Graham replied, hand in his hair. “They'll gonna be pretty stunned when they realise she doesn't have human anatomy.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Yaz shouted.

Everyone was so focused on her, only the Doctor could see the figure in the corridor, watching them from afar, dark eyes widened and glued on the little puddle of blood next to her.

“Nursery,” she managed to mutter. “Third door on the left, then second on the right, then fifth on the right, then second on the right. Hard to miss.”

The Master quickly slipped into the closest door, letting her friends pass him, all hurrying down the corridor as fast as they could, already trying to get together the made-up instructions.

He came back out with a whole bag full of supplies to fix up her wounds.

“Your nursery is right next door,” he remarked with a raise of his eyebrows and the Doctor attempted a grin and failed horribly.

“Yeah well, it'll give us some time.”

He fixed up her wound expertly but she noticed the slight tremble of his fingers, the way his face had paled, the way he chewed on his lower lip in concentration and tension until the wound was sewn shut, disinfected and properly bandaged.

He'd done this before, that much was sure – Probably on himself.

“And how exactly are you going to explain that to them?” he asked with a snort. “Fixed it up yourself?”

He helped the Doctor sit up and lean her back against the console, where she sat for a while, waiting for the painkiller patch to work.

“Told them I have a TARDIS ghost,” she replied. “Might as well spin the tale to something even more ludicrous.”

“You knew I was here.”

“'Course I did. Always know when you're close.”

The Master shook his head with a laugh.

“Yeah, except for all the times you don't, of course.”

“Of course.”

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, the steps of her friends already audible in the distance.

“Thanks for patching me up,” she brought out quickly.

“Thanks for not throwing me out,” he replied with a shrug.

“Like I ever would.”

“Like _I_ ever would.”

With one last, long look to her, the Master hid back inside her nursery, listening, without doubts, to her stunned friends asking about that magical ghost of her – Well, two of them, Yaz just stood with her arms crossed and a dark look on her face.

The next day, she had taken her friends to stop a tiny little alien invasion in London, almost their time, but conveniently a few years before and the Master had, as she had expected, disappeared. She had done her best to pretend not to notice him slip out, had done her best to at least spare him the forty remaining years of his exile, had maybe even secretly wished he'd just stay.

But the thing about stowaways was that they only remained stowaways as long as you didn't find out about them. The second you accepted them as part of the crew, they were in.

Or out.


	9. Necks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta be real with you, I had no idea what to write, I had no motivation to write, but I don't want to skip now that I've come so far, so here's what essentially is a shitpost in fanfic form!

The Doctor wasn't one for jealously.

Not at all.

Not usually.

So this burning hot feeling crashing through her whenever she looked at the hickey on the Master's neck was completely new for her.

It made her irrational, it made her want to smash things, made her want to blow up in his face. Forget Gallifrey, forget his latest stupid plot she had to stop, forget the people around them trembling with fear, she wanted to throw him against a wall and either kiss or kill him and it scared her that she didn't know which yet.

She had never felt this way before. It was ridiculous. Never before had she had any reason to worry about it because never before had he seriously made an attempt to leave her behind and start new. There had been Lucy, of course, but she had been such an obvious attempt to make her jealous that she had just ignored it, had, in fact, felt pity for the woman.

But this, this was something else. This was personal. He had pulled his collar up to _hide_ the hickey instead of flaunting it right into her face.

This was war.

“Well, Doctor?” he asked, confusion loosely held back in his voice. “I have the entire planet in my grasp. What's your move?”

“My move?” she asked blankly, eyes still glued to his neck. “Huh?”

“The... the evil... plan?” he replied, sounding a bit offended now. “Me? Controlling the entire planet? Aren't you going to stop me?”

“Hmmm...,” the Doctor replied, not really listening.

“Are you... feeling alright?”

The Master jumped down the steps until he was standing in front of her, eyes examining her face closely.  
  
“Something seems off.”

With a spiteful glare, she spread out her hand and pressed her index finger right into the hickey. He jumped back with a gasp.

“Ow!” he called out.

“Who?” she asked, voice shriller than she would've liked. “Who was it, huh?”

Who thought it was alright to mark you as theirs, when everyone, everyone knows you are mine.

The Master raised an eyebrow.

“Think a little louder, why don't you?”

Oh great, he had heard that, hadn't he?

“And that,” the Master grinned.

“So?” she asked, quickly going into attack mode, trying to distract from the wave of shame currently crushing her. Bloody hell, she had never known her feelings to go crazy like this. Jealousy sure was more powerful than she had ever expected. “You still haven't answered my question. _Who_?”

“A real hottie,” the Master replied with a grin and wriggling eyebrows. “Had a whole neck fixation. Couldn't get enough of me.”

She stemmed a hand into her hip, glaring at him.

She should've known. Should've known he'd be all smug and gross and proud of it.

“Since when do you look after _hotties_ , huh?” she spit at him.

“Well, I couldn't help myself,” he grinned. “That one was just delicious.”

“Well, I don't... I don't want you... want you to see that hottie again!” she called out, trying to sound reasonable, trying to sound controlled, but her voice was trembling and to her utter terror she felt tears rising.

Now that was it. She had never cried about something as ridiculous as jealousy and she wasn't going to start now! Especially not in front of the Master's smug smile.

“And with what right, Doctor, are you saying that?” the Master replied coldly. “You're running around the galaxy with one pet after another, making pretty eyes at all of them because it feeds your ridiculously large ego. And you want to tell me after over a thousand years, I don't get to have someone else? Do you want me to be alone forever, on your beg and call, so that you can keep on _ignoring_ me?”

Something sane, something familiar came back to the Doctor, waded through the fog of her jealousy clouded brain and she noticed with a sting that it was  _ guilt _ .

“I... know... I didn't mean... I don't mean.... you... You're right. I... I'm sorry.”

The Master looked taken aback.

“Wait, what? Never heard that from you before, that's new.”

His mouth closed quickly as he saw her blinking rapidly, fighting with her tears.

“Oh you... you don't get to... come on,” he threw his hands up and watched her trying to hold back the little sob building, but it was a lost battle – Her shoulders were shaking and she quickly turned away from him.

“That's not...,” She heard the Master sigh behind her and then gentle hands on her shoulders, trying to turn her around. She tried to shake him off, feebly, but he wouldn't comply, turned her over to him and pressed him against his chest.

“It's not fair,” she hiccuped. “I.. I know... But I guess I've just gotten so used to you not even looking at someone else, it's just... I didn't... I'm sorry. I'm stupid, that's stupid, I'm sorry.”

He kissed her forehead gently and swayed her in his arms, shaking his head with a sigh.

“Doctor, calm down, love,” he muttered. “The hickey's from you.”

“It... what?”

She pushed him away within an instant, staring at him. “I think I would remember that!”

“Well, not _this_ you,” he explained patiently. “Pinstriped you? Back when you thought I was O?”

“But that was... You...”

A wide grin spread on her face.

“You're going back your own timeline to still be with me as O!”

“That's not... I mean... I'm not... I...” the Master stammered. “I need to make sure the plan gets completed!”

“Youuuuuu missed me!” she laughed. “You missed me and you pretend to be O to...”

He pulled her close, crashing her against his body and kissed her hard and despite knowing he was just trying to shut her up, the Doctor didn't mind in the slightest.

Instead, she kissed him back with all she had and when she had gotten enough of his taste to soothe the anger in her chest, she buried her hands in his soft hair and tilted his head slightly, ready to leave a mark on the other side of his neck, for her past self to worry about – He clearly deserved it.


	10. Fireman Carry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those prompts that definitely works better for drawings than fic, but I did it my best. :P

“Yaz,” she shouted, coughing hard, her throat sore and itchy but she couldn't stop, just couldn't. “Yaz!”

Her shouts were slowly turning into hoarse whispers as the Doctor fought herself through the flames, desperately trying to find her friend lost in the ruins of this school burning down.

“Yaz, can you hear me? Yaz!”

Someone tugged at her arm from behind. With a relieved sob in her throat, the Doctor whirled around, then scowled.

“What?” she tried to call into the Master's face, but nothing but a broken whisper made its way out. “Haven't you done enough?”

“You gotta get out,” he answered angrily. “Now. Or you'll die in here.”

“What do you care.”

She turned back around, not waiting for his reply – She was not going to leave Yaz behind. If she had to go deeper into the flames, she would.

“Yaz!” she croaked again, slowly making her way forwards. A balk of burning wood fell down right in front of her feet, but she barely paid it any mind, trying to tip toe around it and deeper towards the herd of the fire.

That was when two arms grabbed her, stronger than her even under normal circumstances, but her head had gone dizzy now and her limbs felt weak.

“Let go of me!” she screamed or croaked or sobbed, she wasn't sure anymore. “Let me go! I need to find her, I gotta find her.”

“I'm not letting you run into your death!” he shouted and with a determined gleam in his eyes, he pulled her up, laid her over her shoulders and started walking towards the other direction.

She squirmed, kicked, tried everything to make him let go, but he held her tightly against his back, carrying her steadily into the wrong direction – Away from Yaz.

“Stop!” she shouted. “I'm not leaving her! Stop!”

More and more smoke filled her lungs and she felt another wave of dizziness crash over her.

“No, please...” she muttered, seeing lights as her eyes fell shut. “I can't leave her behind in here... please...”

The Doctor woke up in a nursery – Not her own, she noticed – an oxygen mask stuck on her face and some tea on a table next to her.

She pulled off the mask and tested out her lungs – Breathing was still painful, but worked well enough. With anger and grief shaking up her whole body, she managed to swing off the bed and started running down the aisles of the Master's TARDIS. Her hands were clutched to fists, her eyes tearing in what was either rage or sadness or guilt, she couldn't tell anymore and she didn't care.

The Master looked up when she crashed into the console room, from where he had stood with slouched shoulders, leant over his monitor.

“You're supposed to be in bed,” he scolded her. “You barely rested.”

“I don't need rest,” she replied sharply. “I need you to step aside so I can go back in time. Now.”

“Forget it,” he scoffed. “You don't seriously thing I'm letting you anywhere near my console. Your weird urge to sacrifice the entire universe change this timeline is admirable, I'm sure, but I do prefer not being eaten by Reapers, thanks very much.”

With a roar, she made sure was exploding and echoing inside his mind, she jumped him. Fists hitting his chest again and again, shoving and pushing and shaking him and it didn't seem to release any of the rage inside of her – On the contrary, it was like feeding a fire, it was like flames shooting higher and higher like they must've had around Yaz.

“You killed her!” she cried out and only now noticed that she was crying. “You killed her! You just let her die in there and...”

He let her hit him, let himself get pushed back against the console, let her split her nose, but she felt her resolve crumbling, felt herself curling downwards, guilt and grief overwhelming her and that's when his hands wrapped around her wrists and he pulled her upright to face him.

“She's _okay_ , Doctor.”

“She... what?” she spluttered. “But... but...”

“I found her. There was no way in or out, the whole room was in flames, but I managed to throw a bloody teleport over the fire and she caught it and was out of there, alright? She's fine. I set it to bring her home. She's _safe_.”

“No... why... why would you... you're.. if you're lying..”

“Why would I be lying? What's the point?” he huffed and a wave of overwhelming relief flooded her, let her stumble back and fall against the console with a cry.

“She's fine?” she repeated. “She's fine.”

“She's fine,” he assured her and walked to face her again, a hand on her shoulder. “Now will you please go back to bed so I can make sure you're fine, too?”

“Why.. why would you save her. Why would save me. You're the one who made the fire in the first place.”

“Well, you weren't supposed to _die_ in it,” he shouted and suddenly he seemed frantic and this was the first time she even noticed that his hands were shaking and his hair looked a mess, covered in ashes. There were black smudges all over his face and she could clearly say the spots where he had touched his face in exasperation, smeared them further over his skin. “It was a distraction, nothing more. To get away, I didn't think...”

She had been so focused on Yaz, she'd barely noticed he had been just as worried about her than she had been about her friend.

“Hey,” she interrupted him quickly, her hand finding his and squeezing it lightly. “Hey, I'm gonna be okay. I feel alright. Just a bit tired, now that you mention it.”

She gave him a light little smile.

“Well, that's that settled then,” he brought out shakily. “Bed. Now.”

“Such a romantic,” she replied but she felt her throat ache and now that the desperation had subsided and the adrenaline was leaving her body alone, her limbs felt heavy and drained. “Can you carry me again?”

He snorted.

“You're not that much of a lightweight, you know that, right?”

“I won't struggle this time,” she promised and with a sigh, he threw her over his shoulders again.

“The things I do for you,” he grumbled as he made his way back through the aisles and into the nursery with her on his shoulders, enjoying the ride and pressing a light kiss to the bit of him she could reach – He probably barely felt it, but he gave her a smirk anyway.

“Thanks. For saving her for me. And me. I suppose.”

He rolled his eyes.

“No problem, love. Next time you want to thank me, maybe consider not beating me up.”

“That's gonna be hard,” she grinned as he let her sink back down onto the bed carefully. “But I'll give it my best.”

He covered her with a blanket gently but when he turned to leave, it was her turn to grab his wrist, holding it tightly and pulling him back.

“Don't leave,” she begged and after a long pause that seemed to last an eternity, the Master sat down next to her on the bed, letting his fingers run through her hair comfortingly.

“Never,” he said after a short break of silence between them. “Never run into a fire like that again.”

“Never start a fire again, then that shouldn't be a problem, should it?” she shot back and the Master sighed.

“Can't promise you that. You know that.”

“Well, neither can I then.”

They exchanged a look, the Doctor lying there, on her back, looking up at him with a hint of sadness mixed up in her determination and he looking down on her, feeling desperation rising.

“I can promise you to always be there and carry you out. If you wanted me to.”

She smiled.

“Look at us. Being honourable arch enemies. I'll take it. But I can't promise that I won't make it this hard for you again.”

“Eh,” he replied with a huff, gently tugging at a strand of her hair, as if to pay her back. “Didn't expect you to. I got you, anyway.”

That he had.


	11. Spaghetti (Lady and the Tramp Style)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And today in "Prompts that definitely work better for people who know how to draw" - The Master tried to seduce the Doctor with pasta and fails miserably.

“Great,” the Doctor muttered as she let her phone sink.

A deep sigh escaped her.

“Another visit to O..”

Which, technically, she didn't mind. At all. O was amazing. He really was. So sweet and dreamy and incredibly pleasant company. Always listened to her, always in awe, always caring.

Just the friend she needed.

If it wasn't for that tiny fact that every time he invited her for dinner... he made Spaghetti.

He invited her a _lot_.

And the Doctor was beginning to feel a little sick of Spaghetti.

Still, she couldn't quite bring herself not to look forward to meeting O again and so she whistled a happy tune and ate some of Graham's sandwiches as preparation.

“Doctor,” he greeted her with that soft little smile of his, brown eyes immediately on her again, making her feel so safe and cared about whenever she looked into them.

“Hey O,” she smiled. “Good to see you.”

He led her inside and took a coat – A true gentleman – and the Doctor raised her head and sniffed, just once.

“Ah,” she brought out with a tortured smile. “Pasta, huh?”

“Yeah, I made your favourite,” O winked at her and again, there was that stupid proud grin of hers she just couldn't bear to imagine fading.

“Great!” she instead replied a little too cheerful, arms swinging through the air. “Great...”

“Why don't you sit down?” O smiled and gave her a little kiss, before walking off to the kitchen. “Dinner and I will be with you in a minute.”

With a sigh, the Doctor sat down in the living room, staring at the bouquet of flowers he had set up on the table, while feeling her stomach sink.

What the hell was that man's obsession with Spaghetti?

There was no way she could eat Spaghetti again - Plus, she had already had Graham's sandwiches. There was only one solution, really.

“Hey, O?” she called into the kitchen and he appeared a second later in the door frame, grinning and wearing a cute little apron with green alien patterns on it.

What a dork.

The Doctor grinned.

“ I'm not so hungry today, could we maybe... just share a plate? Would that be okay at all?”

O's eyes widened and on his face spread a huge, glaring grin that gave her the odd urge to go back through her words and figure out what she had said to make him this ridiculously happy – And maybe do it again.

“Of course, Doctor, that would be lovely.”

Okay, she thought, taken aback as he disappeared back into the kitchen with light steps and a whistle on his lips. Sharing Spaghetti was apparently... lovely. Was this a weird human thing or just a _this_ weird human thing? She wasn't sure.

He was being... weird today, the Doctor couldn't help but notice.

It might be the way he intensely watched her eat every single fork of Spaghetti with widened eyes. Or the way he ate every noodle every slowly and separately, while _still_ watching her. The way he almost always dug in his own fork along with her.

“Are you... are you feeling alright?” the Doctor asked after a little while, letting her fork sink with a worried frown. “You're behaving a bit...”

O cleared his throat.

“Yes, I... yes, sorry. I must've been... a bit in thought.”

“Oh, that's alright,” she smiled, relieved to his face slowly lose a bit of that odd tension it had held.

O seemed also have enough of eating for now, but instead of taking out the plate, he looked at her, his whole face lightening up.

“How about we watch a movie? Do you like Disney? I have a whole collection of Disney movies, if you...”

“Frozen!” she called immediately, jumping up in excitement. “Oh, please say you have Frozen! It's my favourite!”

O stood there, staring at her overwhelmed for a second, then cleared his throat yet again.

“Well, I... yes, but I thought more of a... Classic, you know? Like Lady and the...”

“Ohhh you do, you have Frozen!”

She hadn't even listened and instead ran immediately towards the drawer she knew he kept his movies and snooped around, until she found a case with Frozen on the cover.

O's lips trembled slightly and he looked like he was caught between a smile or a sob, then a resigned expression fell over his face.

“Oh. I mean. Okay. If you want it that badly...”

She had already turned back around, put in the DVD and figuratively jumped onto the sofa, patting the empty spot next to her.

“Come on, Olaf.”

He shook his head, a sour expression on his face.

“Nope. Not my name. Don't... don't do that.”

But he seemed to not mind all that much, after she'd given him an apologetic peck onto the cheek and started snuggling into his arms.

What a good friend her O was.

“And that was plan 847,” the Master shouted, loud next to her ear because the Doctor might or might not have fallen asleep somewhere along plan 426. “Again! Ruined! By you!”

“Yes, well, listen,” she replied sleepily, trying to raise her hands to gesticulate, then remembered he had tied her to his console. “Can we maybe just summarise the whole ruined planned thing into one? Unless you want to bore me to death, I don't think I need the details. I was there, I remember.”

“Fine,” he spit, literally, she could see little drops of spit escape his lips as he was trembling with rage. “I'll go on with your various other crimes against me, then!”

“Please do,” she sighed. This couldn't take long... right?

“The death zone!” he called out and the Doctor groaned.

“Not again. We had apologise sex for this at least five times. I get it. I should've believed you, it was humiliating, _please_ don't tell me again.”

“That was apologise sex?” the Master asked with a frown, his rage falling off him to make place for confusion. “I thought you were just really horny that month.”

“Well. Both can be true,” she grinned. “Anything else on that list of yours? I've got dinner plans.”

“Yes, there's something else on my list!” the Master replied with a sudden angry growl. “Dinner! That's right! Perfect key word! Fifteen times! Fifteen times you made me eat Spaghetti. And not once. Not once did you climb off your high horse and...”

“I made you eat Spaghetti?” she called out, now finally coming back to life. “I made you eat Spaghetti? What is wrong with you! Every single dinner we had you made them! I was beginning to get nightmares of Spaghetti monsters!”

“Just call them Axos, Doctor, you know they don't like when you...”

“You made the Spaghetti!” she called out, ignoring his interjection. “I was beginning O wanted to have sex with them!”

“O wanted to...,” he spluttered. “I wanted to have sex with you! But you just wouldn't kiss me!”

“Kiss you?” she asked. “Wait what? Why didn't you just kiss me if that's what you.... Ohhhh. Oh!”

A laugh escaped her.

“Oh we were dating. Yeah, see, I hadn't noticed that. Should've definitely kissed me.”

“How did you not notice that?” the Master threw his hands up in the air. “We had dinner together like a million times. And you just didn't notice?”

She shrugged as much as the ties allowed her.

“Well, I just thought... we were good friends.”

“Good friends don't want Spaghetti kisses!” he shouted.

“Spaghetti.... what?” The Doctor made a scrunchy face. “What are you talking about?”

“Spaghetti kisses!” the Master replied with indignation. “That thing humans do all the time. Where they eat the same Spaghetti and just... go closer together with their faces until they kiss.”

The Doctor stared at him in silence for a minute.

“Yeah,” she finally said, after having watched his face getting more desperate and desperate. “I've never heard of that in my life.”

“They do it all the time!” he shouted out. “They showed it in that Disney movie! The one with the dogs!”

“Ohh, 101 Dalmatians?” the Doctor asked. “I loved that one, Cruella is so h...”

“No! That other Disney movie with the dogs!”

“Oliver and Company?” she asked innocently.

The Master took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if to hold back from burning her down on the spot.

“Lady and the Tramp,” he finally brought out through gritted teeth.

“Huh?” she asked. “Never watched that, I think.”

“You haven't... so you... really didn't know?”

“Well, no,” she laughed. “It sounded like fun, though. Wanna try it with Haribo fruit laces?”

The Master looked at her stunned for a moment.

“That... probably would've been easier, huh?”

She grinned.

“Absolutely. But no time like the present.”

His hands twitched towards her ropes. He seemed to fight an internal battle but then sighed, cutting her free of her ties.

“Fine. But don't get used to it. I'll let you go now because... because...”

She gave him cheeky grin.

“Horny month?”

The Master sighed.

“Horny month.”


	12. Lipstick

She had left him cards, back when she had thought he was O. Cheesy, stupid, silly cards that he hated with every fibre of his being.

He'd kept every single one of them.

She'd left them in different corners of his several flats and in his work place, hid them when she'd been over or sometimes there was one sitting on his favourite spot, just when he had returned home.

It was thoughtful and sickening sweet, showing him that she thought of him, that she kept track of him – Just the  _wrong_ him.

They all had a stupid pun on them, a cheesy note like “I love you like Peanut Butter likes Jelly” - What was that even? These two don't went together at all – and, most importantly, a lipstick kiss.

She'd just put on lipstick and pressed a kiss to the card, every single one and the Master ended up staring at it, analysing every line, every smudge. Was it silly to say he knew that they were real because he knew those lips, would always know these lips, no matter how they changed over the years?

Probably, but he still imagined it was true.

They were all still in his night stand in his TARDIS, lower drawer, buried under some leather gloves and his old laser screwdriver, but he'd never, not once, forgotten where he put them and he wouldn't as long as he lived.

Still, they were really stupid and he hated them.

Most of all, however, he hated that he noticed how she'd stopped sending him some after he had revealed who he was.

So the Master, resourceful as he was, decided to take matters into his own hands. Straight from Gallifrey, he dumped his Cyberman Army (had they really thought he  _wanted_ them? Idiots.) and worked on tracking down the Doctor.

He found her stuck in a Judoon prison and rolled his eyes a little.

“Honestly, Doctor, with your admirable skills to run from one trap into the other, you sure know how to make a boy special.”

He dropped by, sneaked into her stranded TARDIS and considered, just for a minute or two, stealing it, just for sports. But then again, it was a bit of an unfair advantage to do it while someone else had her trapped – Where was the fun in that?

So he dropped the little bouquet of black roses he had collected for her from an exotic garden planet, a little mini Judoon he had shrunk on arrival and one card of his own – Purple lipstick-kiss and all. 

He had several shades of lipstick for every occasion – He was the Master, after all.

And then he sat down, a bit away from her TARDIS but with excellent view, and waited. And waited. And waited.

When two hours had passed and there was still no sign of alarm from the prison facilities, he rolled his eyes yet again, got up and broke into the building – Just a little. Shrunk every Judoon that passed his way – A tiny bit.

Then hit the button to open all the cells and watched the steady stream of criminals – including the Doctor - escaping with roaring cheers.

A little chaos was a wonderful thing – And he used it to sneak away unseen, heading back to his TARDIS and waiting for the Doctor to  _react_ .

He got a reply three days later, after narrowly escaping the planet of Ricola with the plants he needed for his ultimate poisoned cough drops plan, in form of another card, lying in the middle of his console.

“ _Stop writing me cards_ ,” it said. “ _I blocked you on Whatsapp for a reason_.”

It was difficult to believe her, however, since the card was signed with another lipstick kiss.

Fighting a smirk, the Master pocketed it and made his way to Earth, ready to get into production of his new plan.

Little did he know, the Doctor had made sure villagers only let him steal an identical looking, non-poisonous plant and all of humanity wasn't only saved from his deadly trap, but also now entirely immune to the deadly pandemic that had already been going on.

Well, screw her.

The next card he left for her had a black imprint of his lips this time – He really tried hard. Drew ornate vines and roses onto it (God, he hadn't drawn in centuries) – He could've teased her, could've cursed her, could've done anything, but instead he done the one thing O would've done.

He wrote, “I love you like I did yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow, but always forever.”

Though, now that he thought about it – and he thought about it a  _lot_ , alone in his TARDIS, pacing, erratically, panicky, full of regret already – O probably wouldn't have been brave enough. And O wouldn't have, couldn't have loved her like he did, ever. O was just a human.

The Master shook his head, brows furrowed in confusion.

No, O was just a part of him, deeply buried and enthralled with her – A part of him she had actually liked.

Stupid, stupid hope.

He stayed awake for two nights, lying in his bed, on his back, facing the ceiling and waiting, fearing, regretting some more, when he finally heard her break in.

With hearts beating wildly, he made his way through the corridor and into his control room, where she was so focused on finding a spot for a message, she only noticed him a minute later, freezing mid-movement, eyebrows raised.

“Now that's cheating,” she said after a little awkward pause.

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, feeling not up to the possibility of embarrassing himself fully, but also too scared to back out now. “I thought I'd pick up my kiss personally this time.”

She stared at him, for a very long time, then let the hand with her card sink slowly.

“I'm not wearing any lipstick,” she brought out, pointing at her lips and a little smile twitched around the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, turns out, I don't really care.”

She stepped closer to him, grinning slightly and it made his hearts jump, twist painfully in hope. God, he hated hope.

“Don't you care what's on my card?” she asked he shrugged, as if he wasn't terrified of it, as if he wasn't aware of how vulnerable he had made himself.

“You could just tell me.”

“I love you like life loves breath,” she breathed and he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes – what a deep, meaningful ridiculousness – and leaned in instead, letting her feel his own breath on her lips.

“You do, huh?”

“I suppose I do,” she replied, her eyes never leaving his and within seconds, they were pressing against each other, kissing deeply and the Master felt like tons of bricks fell off his hearts.

She tasted of lipstick of roses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, sorry I'm late, I spent the whole day sobbing and still feel a bit... out of focus. And light-headed. And this was written in the company of some mulled wine. And I genuinely can't assess if it was any good or utter rubbish in the state I'm in, so you're gonna have to tell me. But I didn't let depression break my streak and that's what matters.... right? .... Right?


	13. The Delights of Daytime TV

It was becoming increasingly harder to rationalise all the time they spent together.

It had been easier when it was just loads of sex - The rationalisation being that it was good sex – but it had turned into something she knew, if her companions asked, she'd get into quite a pickle to explain.

But somehow, as she was lying on the sofa next to him, head in his lap, his fingers gently threading through her hair and the TV running, the Doctor did not have it in her to worry about any of that.

“See that grumpy, cynic guy, telling everyone they're lying and going to die because of it?”

He gave her a side glance.

“Yes, I have noticed the main character.”

“You. That's one hundred percent you.”

The Master raised an eyebrow and gently tugged at one of her strands, making her grin up at him.

“What? Give me one argument against that!”

“He's a doctor,” the Master replied with his chin raised in playful spite. “I am not a doctor.”

“Yeah, well, it's a doctor show,” she shrugged. “But look at him, limping along, in constant pain and letting it out on anyone else while trying his hardest to deny his emotions. Don't you see yourself in him at all?”

“Nah, I don't see it,” the Master replied and a wide, predatory grin spread on his face. “But his judgemental, boring best friend who always ruins his fun and attempts to project deep, suppressed emotions and motives onto him, then falling onto his face because of it again and again... he does remind me of you a little.”

The Doctor gulped, stared at the screen, where James Wilson was currently giving another moral lecture to an unrelenting House and picked up the remote.

“Let's... let's watch something else, huh?”

The Master was still giggling when she had found a new channel with what she assumed was an interesting documentary on alien life forms.

“Hm,” the Master grinned. “Like the premise. Green man ruining Christmas sounds great.”

“Really?” the Doctor asked. “Is that what that's about? Who the hell enjoys watching that?”

“Me!” the Master called out and jumped off in protest when she switched away. “Hey! I was watching this!”

“Like I said,” she snorted as she reluctantly got back into sitting position, staring at him accusatory for moving her head off his lap. “Old, emotionally stunted, grumpy-cat. Christmas is nice! What ever has Christmas done to you?”

“I don't mind Christmas,” he conceded as he conquered the remote and switched back to the channel. “It's the happy people that annoy me. Hey. Hey, why does he get thwarted? That's so boring!”

“It's how movies work,” the Doctor commented with a roll of her eyes as he switched through the channels again, thumb almost aggressively hitting the buttons. “Bad guy creates conflict so good guy can stop him. Sucks to be the bad guy, does it?”

She kissed his cheek and the Master's hand faltered slightly as he had reached a children's channel with...

“We're not watching Teletubbies,” she called out firmly. “Absolutely not. You leave this on and I'm leaving.”

“Well, the other programs are all baddies getting defeated and I'm not watching that,” he replied with indignant tone. “You gotta make compromises sometimes! I've watched all of your Disney crap! Even after the cool, scar-faced lion lost, I didn't stop watching!”

“Absolutely not,” the Doctor repeated with loud tone, grabbing for the remote again. “Let's watch that show about Vampires fighting over that human girl.”

“No,” the Master said with a sulk and jumped up again, grabbing for his coat. “I'm not watching that. The cool, sexy vampire never gets the girl, it's not fair. Stupid television.”

He stormed off and out of her TARDIS with quick steps, leaving the Doctor behind to find a comfortable position on the sofa and watch the cool, sexy vampire actually get the girl, while severely missing her sexy Time Lord's hands in her hair.

Bloody, stubborn idiot.

She found the Master a week later, trying to hypnotise the entire population of the Earth to watch a TV program he'd written and produced himself, about a big, bad, hot genius taking over the universe and marrying the blond, dashing heroine.

It was almost flattering.

She entered his new office in the BBC studios with a sigh.  
  
“How's it going?” she asked with a resigned sigh.

“They just don't like my show,” the Master replied grumpily, as he put a piece of paper showing the latest ratings and curled it up in his fist. “I even tried to get my old archangel network running again but nothing. People actually sent me hate mail, can you imagine? Told me my program was too different from the norm, they didn't like my woke shit. What does that even mean?”

“The world's just not ready for hot baddies taking over their screens,” she shrugged. “Which is only good for me, because I wouldn't want anyone to notice how great you are, now, would I?”

His eyes flickered towards her and a rather consoled expression sneaked onto his face.

“Oh, is that so?” he grinned.

She walked over to him and he pushed himself off the table in his chair, enough so she could climb onto his lap and kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck.

“If it protects the universe from your hypnotism,” she breathed, “I'll sacrifice myself for them... and watch your stupid show.”

He chuckled against her lips, pressing another soft kiss onto them, forehead leaning against hers and for a second, they just sat there, intertwined in one another.

“You'll like it,” he finally replied with a smirk. “The hero gets a good fuck on a literal rainbow.”

The Doctor grinned.

“And while that does sound good to me – I think the chair will do just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the notes are getting more and more difficult as I go, but I'm trying to make the best out of it haha. Thanks for reaching and all the well-wishes yesterday, I'm feeling tons better today. Not great, but better. <3


	14. Confession Booths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I was excited for this prompt the day I started this challenge and IT'S FINALLY HERE.

It was a bit of a cheat, going here.

The Doctor had learned soon not to believe in a higher being, in any kind of God, in anything that was going to save them or redeem them but their own actions.

So when her feet echoed on the cold stone ground in the quiet church of Devil's End, she couldn't help but wonder what the hell she was doing here.

Of course, the answer was quite obvious – She was doing the only thing she could to lighten the heavy rock lying on her conscience, talking to the only person who really, truly could redeem her – If he only bothered.

She was cheating, though.

Because, oh, he had been so young, hadn't he, when he had been here first, disguising himself as a vicar with nothing but a pair of glasses and a fake name that barely disguised his true one.

Mister Magister – Please. It had been ridiculously easy to track him down and even though the Doctor was sure this wasn't a good idea at all, she couldn't help being excited, couldn't help the nervous, fast beating of her hearts as she crossed the church and walked up to the little box with the drapes before the windows.

Here goes, she thought. Time to confess your sins, Doctor. You have countless.

She sat down and it only took a moment until she heard him sigh heavily and sit down in the other both, his shape vaguely visible through the curtain separating them.

“What can I do for you, child?”

Right. Right. That was his voice. She hadn't heard it in literal centuries and the painful familiarity rendered her speechless for a moment, drove tears into her eyes.

Things had been easier back then. Somehow less twisted, less intertwined in so much complicated, painful history between them.

How does one start these things? Forgive me father, for I have sinned? Eh. She was not into that particular kink. At least she didn't think she was.

“Hi,” she said instead. “Lots on my mind, really. Can I just talk freely?”

A little pause of a second was the only sign that he was taken aback. His voice sounded perfectly composed when he answered her.

“Of course you can. That is what I'm here for, after all.”

Yeah, the Doctor thought. That and the massive daemon you're trying to summon to give you infinite powers.

“I have this friend,” she started. “A very old friend. Very, very old. And I fear I've let him down. He's gone a path I can't follow, you see? And the more I try to... to make him understand, the more he slips from me. He's struggling. I can see him struggling. I can see him... suffer. But I don't know how to reach out anymore. Not after... after everything he's done to me.”

“This friend of yours...” came a thoughtful reply after a little moment. “Does he want your help? Has he ever asked for it? Maybe this path of his... is just a path he has got to walk right now.”

The Doctor swallowed hard.

He didn't know how to do this properly either, it occurred to her. The Master, too, had to learn early that there were no Gods looking out for him.

“I feel like sometimes... he has. And I've missed it. I feel like sometimes... he's talking into a secret language I can't understand anymore and he's waiting for me to remember. And I mess it up. Every time.”

“I could recommend you some helpful books, if you'd like,” came the calm reply. “A bit of reading is very helpful in educating yourself to a new language.”

Oh, this absolute....

“It was a metaphor,” the Doctor brought out through gritted teeth. “He can't tell me what he wants directly and I've gotten bad at reading him. Understanding him. It's like we're drifting further apart because he keeps on pushing away from me, again and again, and the further he gets, the more it breaks him.”

A little sigh came from the other side of the curtain and she saw the shape of the Master straighten slightly.

“Listen, if I may speak freely? It sounds like you're doing your best but there's nothing you can do. If he's pushing you away, then it is not your responsibility to hold him together.”

The Doctor stared at the curtain in shock.

“You really think that?” she whispered. “You think I should just let go?”

“I think sometimes it's the only option you have, unless you, too, want to suffer along with him. If he's... really your friend, he'll find his way back. All he has to do is follow the path back, after all.”

“I'm not sure it's that simple,” the Doctor frowned. “I'm not sure me letting go completely wouldn't... wouldn't crush him completely. He's been... different lately. More careless about... about himself.”

“Leave some lights on,” the Master offered. “Sweep the floor. Plant some flowers. Put up a sign pointing to the way back.”

“What... what's that supposed to mean?” the Doctor snorted. “Is that a bible thing?”

“No.” She could hear the Master's eye roll in his voice. “It's a metaphor.”

“Meaning what?” she asked, feeling her patience fading.

“Meaning you need to show him that he's welcome to come back once he's ready. Otherwise he'll just keep on running into the wrong direction.”

“I shouldn't even care,” the Doctor whispered after a long silence. “I shouldn't even care about welcoming him back. How could I, after all... all he's done, the horrible, horrible things he did to push me away...”

“I don't know much about horrible things,” the Master replied thoughtfully and she had to suppress a snort, “but I know that sometimes we try everything to burn a bridge we're scared to cross.”

What the Master had meant, it occurred to the Doctor as she hid behind a tree, trying to keep her coat from swishing around wildly in the wind, was not to stalk his later incarnation's every move blindly and without a plan.

But yet again, she simply couldn't help herself.

He was walking through the universe as aimlessly as she followed him – Garden planet here, leaving without even the littlest evil deed. Shady criminal hot spot bar at the corners of the galaxy next – Just having a pint at the counter, not talking to anyone, no matter how many people bowed in awe or tried to talk him into business.

He wasn't doing well. Had lost his way. Didn't know where to go, what to do. Sometimes he took his new Cybermen army out for a walk on the ruins of Skaro and he had the audacity to look a bit bored. Just watched them slaughter some left-over Daleks while sitting on a rock, chin resting on his hands, eyes going empty.

He wasn't himself, lately, she had realised that a while ago (a while too late). He didn't even notice her stalking him. Normally, he'd always, under every circumstances, notice her.

It made the Doctor's hearts ache.

So when the Master finally headed for a church, she didn't have it quite in her to be surprised. She watched him stand before the entrance, walk circles up and down, contemplating whether to really do this or not and took her chance slipping in through one of the side entrances, sitting down in the confession booth to wait for him and practised her old Scottish accent.

Her tongue was a bit rusty with the roll of rs but it would do.

He took his sweet time, but finally managed to walk into the church (didn't even burn up on the threshold) and she could hear his steps echo on the stone floor, an oddly fitting parallel to her own visit.

The curtains rustled, the door closed and one second later she could hear him sit down with a theatricality sigh.

He didn't say a word.

She cleared her throat once, spoke into her scarf and tried her best to pull off the Scottish accent – It was now or never.

“What do you need, child?”

She had totally stolen that from his line.

“I'm not yours or anyone's child, call me that again and I'll evaporate you and the entire church.”

Ah.

Again, the Doctor cleared her throat.

“But then who would you confess it to?”

He snorted angrily, but she could feel him calm down a little, saw the tension in his shoulders fade a little through the curtain.

“No one,” the Master mumbled. “No one left to confess to.”

“There's always someone,” she replied softly. “And if you feel like there's not... well, there's always me.”

“I drove her away,” he was still rambling, barely seeming to hear her and his voice grew louder with every word. “I drove her away. I was trying to drove her away and look at me – I've finally done it. Master of the wastelands, Master of nothing, of no one. I wanted her to stop believing in me and so she did. I took it too far. Way, way too far. Because I just couldn't bear it. Couldn't bear the look on her face whenever she believed in me. I can't be... I can't be who she wants me to be. It's better she knows that. It's better she does. But I never meant to... I didn't realise...” He took a long, trembling breath. “I didn't think it'd hurt this much.”

“Uhm,” she tried. “You shouldn't... no one should give up on themselves. You can always... always keep working on yourself to become your best...”

“I don't need the speech, thanks,” he hissed back. “I heard it a million times. Oh Master, you just gotta want it, oh Master, it's in your hands now, oh Missy, I believe you but I just can't believe you, hope, it's a tricky thing, yes, yes of course it is, because this is what happens when it shatters, isn't it? Just look at me, look at me!” he shouted.

“I legally can't-” the Doctor started and she heard him roar, heard him throw a vase with flowers to the floor, where it cracked into pieces.

“Okay, okay, I hear you,” she started quickly, not noticing her accent slip in her hurry to placating him. “But hope can regrow. Like... like a flower.”

“Trust can't. Faith can't. When it's gone, it's gone.”

She swallowed.

He was talking about her and it almost physically hurt. Leave it to him to actively try to make her give up on him and then break over the thought of exactly that happening.

“Doesn't have to be,” she replied, raising her head to speak to him clearly. “Have you checked? I mean, really checked? Maybe... uhm... there's some lights on somewhere. Or some... some flowers at the side? A sign to lead the way, maybe?”

“What?” the Master sounded confused-angry now. It was better than hopeless-angry, she supposed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

A pause.

The Doctor was chewing her lower lip, trying to think of something to say, forehead in furrows.

“Well, I mean... I thought... you know... Ohhh.” She let her arms shoot into the air in exasperation. “It all made sense when he said it.”

“... Doctor, is that you?”

Well.

Crap.

“No, no,” she quickly tried to lower her voice again, tried to awaken the Scottish. “No, no Doctorrrr here, just...”

But he had already walked around the booth and torn open her drapes, glaring down at where she was cowering on her little seat, sheepishly waving up to him.

“Oh, yeah, look, it _is_ me.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” His eyes were glowing, sparking with rage threatening to jump out and probably wreck this place any minute now – Of course they were. Stupid, silly Master, always had to lash out when he felt vulnerable.

“I tried to help,” was all she said. “You seemed lost.”

“Oh, I seemed lost, huh?” he roared back, opening his mouth to shout something else, when he froze in the middle of the movement, looked down at her, then pinched his eyes shut, face falling into an expression of desperation. “I am.”

She scrambled off her seat quickly, standing before him and reaching out tentatively, hand trembling over his shoulder for a second, before she let it sink down on it.

“Well, I... I'm here. If you want to. I'm still here.”

He opened his eyes, head turning to her hand on his shoulder, then back to her face.

“That you are,” he brought out, voice hoarse. “And if I may say so – You're really bad at that whole confession booth thing.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I was just trying to do that thing you did, you know? All the... the talk about planting flowers at the path so you find your way back and that crap.”

“That was you back then?” he snorted. “Oh God, Doctor, I was talking rubbish so you'd leave faster and I could summon great evil!”

“Well, it sounded smart,” she whined and the Master threw his head back, laughing.

“God, you're such an idiot.”

“I was just trying to help!” she sulked. “No need to insult me for it. At least I tried.”

“Please,” he replied. “You were trying to alleviate your own guilt. And I, the idiot that I am, made it even easier for you and told you that it's not your fault. Didn't that work out well for you?” he spit, rage returning to his dark eyes and the Doctor merely smiled, shaking her head quietly.

“I don't know if you noticed, but I'm here, am I not? In fact, I've been following you across seven different planets until you finally brought up the courage to walk into here, to, by the way, _oh Master of the moral high-ground,_ alleviate your own guilt yourself. Hah!” she added, pointing at him.

He rolled his eyes, but she could see his lips twitch and the corners of his mouth seemed to pull up to a little smirk against his will.

“You never could stand people telling you what to do.”

“Well, look who's talking,” she snorted.

“So...” he started, shuffling one foot over the stone-tiled floor, head lowered, giving a perfectly adorable, embarrassed picture. “You're.... still here, huh?”

She squeezed his shoulder gently.

“Yes. And just for the record – You're wrong. Nothing you're going to do is going to make me believe in you any less. I know how destructive you can be. And how self-destructive. And how me-destructive. But I'm here.”

His eyes flickered up to her, then back down again, as if he was afraid of what he'd see on her face.

“I can't do it like.. like we did before. With the vault,” he brought out with hoarse voice. “I'm not... I can't be that anymore.”

She laid a hand under his chin, raising his head towards her and looked into his eyes seriously.

“You don't have to be anything you're not,” she promised. “You just have to be you.”

A frown appeared on the Master's face.

“But...”

“No buts, I've made my peace with it. I confessed to God, remember? He said He'd forgive me. So that must mean I can love the monster.”

She kissed him, a gentle pressing against his lips, and the Master's frown deepened.

“You do know God's not real, right?”

The Doctor rolled her eyes.

“Hey. Idiot. You're so much more than you give yourself credit for. You can be better than you think right now. I know because I know you. And I'll show you. Until then... I'm just not going to leave you alone again, okay?”

She let her hand wander, rested it over his hearts, felt the comforting beats beneath her palm and the Master took a deep breath, eyes closing again.

“I... If I...”

“You won't,” she promised. “After everything you've done, all the things I've seen, do you really think there's anything left to shock me enough to drive me away?”

“Don't say that,” he whimpered, eyes still closed. “Don't challenge me. You know I can't resist a challenge.”

She kissed him again, a bit harder now and could feel his lips tremble against hers, could feel him tense in the effort not to crash her against the nearest wall and be all over her.

“Yeah but you can resist me even less,” she grinned cheekily and his eyes snapped open.

“Smug bastard,” he growled, lips twitching to a smile.

“Again... Look who's talking.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her backwards and they crashed into the still open confession booth, Doctor sitting on her seat, back against the wall and getting ravished good. This was probably not what churches expected to happen in their holy halls but, the Doctor found as she wrapped her legs around his hips to pull him closer, she didn't care even a little.

“Oh father, father, forgive me, for I have sinned,” he murmured against the skin on her neck, hands wandering down her body and she shivered beneath his lips, his hot breath, eyelids fluttering.

“I'm not sure who you're talking about, I've recently learned that daddy is apparently something I can't call myself anymore.”

He snorted, then stilled, eyebrows raised as he stood leaning against her, panting slightly, looking like he was waiting for her to realise something... Something in those brown eyes had gotten so meaningful so... so...

Oh.

“Really?” she asked. “Now? Now is the time you'll finally let me say it?”

He nodded, quietly, fear in his eyes and she raised a hand to his cheek.

“I forgive you.”


	15. Slumber Party

It was the third night in a row the Doctor woke up shaking and sweating. She rolled out of bed quickly, headed for the bathroom and found herself with her head over the toilet.

It was always the nights her fam wasn't there and she was alone in her ship. The pictures had started haunting her even when she was awake – Gallifrey, burning to the ground, falling into ashes, people screaming, people begging, innocents, so many of them.

And she was in the middle, watching the flames and still, still she could feel them twisting her hearts, making her feel like less than them, like anyone... anyone really...

It was so dark, so grim, so unbearable sad and it held her hearts hostage in painful grip, even after she had woken up. Something about the feeling of it just hung over her, even in the familiarity of her ship, wherever she went in the cosmos.

And it was only recently that she had realised those weren't _her_ feelings.

It had felt so familiar, the darkness, the power of it all, the unbearable silence afterwards, the realisation that nothing was better but everything worse.

She'd almost forgotten but here it was again, a dark reminder of what she'd done and the absolute proof that she had let a friend down who'd stumbled into the very same mistake.

And so, for the third night in a row, the Doctor made herself some tea to drown out the horrible taste in her mouth and went to her console room to try and track the Master down, determined not to let him get away this time.

The thing with old mental connections was that they never could be closed again. Like an old wound, they could just break open again with a little proximity. They had used it in Paris and now here she was, stuck with a dark tunnel into the Master's thoughts – She was sure he hadn't meant to let his dreams and emotions seep into her mind, he probably didn't even know.

Now she was standing at her end of the tunnel, wondering if she should dare the crossing.

It was a bit difficult, slipping into someone's mind when he was so unpredictable, so irrationally angry.

But every other way of trying to find him had failed and the Doctor, quite frankly, was worried about him.

So she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and reached out to him.

“ _Oh this ought to be good._ ” Telepathy, she thought, was a tricky thing. While you couldn't quite transport the tone of voice you'd usually speak, you could transport feelings along with your words. He was a good telepath, him, always the most talented in the class, but even the best telepaths could, when shaken up, end up sending feelings they had not wanted to transport.

His mind basically clung to hers like a drowning man to a life boat.

She chose the direct route.

“ _You've been dreaming into my mind.”_

There was a shocked silence for a while – She could feel a mix of anger, fear and horror crash against her before he managed to pull them back, hide them behind walls she could already feel crumble.

“ _Aw, what have I been dreaming? Did we get sexy and now you want a piece of this_?”

She rolled her eyes and made sure he got the feeling going along with _that_.

“ _Like you don't remember. Listen, I want to help you.”_

“ _Don't you always,”_ a fresh wave of anger, pictures popping up in her mind, of her past selves, trapping him, betraying him.

Well, he would hold a grudge.

“ _You never let me,_ ” she replied quietly, sending back a compilation of times she had offered – Leaving out their last attempt for both their sanity.

“ _Because I don't need your help,_ ” he spit back. “ _Take a hint.”_

“ _Maybe not,_ ” she agreed. “ _But I would like to have my quiet, peaceful nights back, so if we could just..._ ”

Nauseating, horrified panic flooded her so intensely, she curled up in her stand, hands on her chest as her hearts hammered away – It was gone as fast as it had appeared, leaving the Doctor breathlessly panting in her empty console room.

“ _Sure,_ ” he replied and there was something icy now, something stone-hard. “ _I'll make sure to close the connection properly. You can have your peaceful nights back.”_

Idiot.

“ _What, no,_ ” she panted, catching her breath as she stood up straight again. “ _That's not what I meant. I meant you come over and sleep here._ ”

Silence, stunned and for the first time since they had started talking, there was no anger between them.

“ _What_?” he finally asked.

“ _It used to work back then._ ”

It was a risky thing to say, to acknowledge anything they'd done in their childhood together. But he couldn't lie awake in pain, every night, and not think about the countless times she'd crawled into his far too small bed as a kid, whenever he was thrashing and squirming, holding him until the safety and familiarity had seeped into his sub-conscious and let him sleep quietly.

“ _I'm not going to cuddle you,_ ” he replied and the emotion that was probably meant to be disgust reached her as a gentle, throbbing need.

“ _Course not_ ,” she lied swiftly. “ _But not being alone might keep the brain busy, eh? We make a slumber party! Watch silly movies, munch popcorn and microwave lasagna and then we sleep in separate beds and if you have nightmares again, I wake you up and throw in another film. How's that?”_

“Cheesy,” he replied, out loud, from through her TARDIS door. “But worth a shot.”

With a grin, she opened the door.

“Sneaky. Sometimes it really worries me how easy you can find me. I've been trying to track you down for weeks.”

He snorted.

“Honey, with your mind in mine, I could find you on the other side of this galaxy. You really never learned all the kinks of telepathy, huh?”

She shrugged.

“I feel like I've gotten better at it, lately,” she sulked and he gave her a look.

“Sure.”

He was pale, she noticed. He tried to put up a front of his usual demeanour, tried to seem all sassy and mocking, but his hands were trembling slightly as he attempted to play with her console and his eyes were unfocussed.

“So, I can't help but noticed that you're not wearing pyjamas. We gotta rectify that.”

He frowned.

“I don't sleep in pyjamas.”

“Then how do you sleep? Not in that, surely?” She pointed at his stupid checked outfit and the coat – Helplessly uncomfortable.

He raised his head to look at her with wriggling eyebrows and a wide grin on his face.

“Great,” she said dully. “At least keep your boxers on, will you?”

Laughing, he followed her to her bedroom, where she quickly set up the bed for them both to sit in and turned on the TV.

“There's a bedroom right across that's unused,” she explained to him as he slipped out of most of his clothes. “So whenever you feel ready, you can sleep there. Before you stop whining about cuddling.”

“I think I was promised microwave lasagna,” he pointed out. “I wouldn't have come if I had known it was an empty promise.”

He had thrown himself onto her side of the bed, pulling the blanket over himself and beamed up at her, apparently ready to get served.

She gave him a sweet smile.

“Sure, it's in the kitchen, just where the microwave is, why don't you make us both one, while I look for my Charlie and the Chocolate factory DVD?”

The Master gave her a little glance, but rolled back out of the bed and she quickly used the time to put on the movie and conquer back her side of the bed.

When he returned, he commented on his relocation with nothing but a single raised eyebrow, then let a bag full of sweets and crisps fall onto the bed, before he settled down next to her, two plates of steaming lasagna in his hands.

“If we're gonna watch a trash film about candy, always have candy at hand,” he grinned but she barely paid him any attention. She was already digging into the sweets, forgetting about the lasagna entirely, until he tugged her head back gently and placed it on her lap.

“Real meal first,” he said with an eye-roll. “Really, what have your parents ever taught you?”

“Don't speak up to authority figures,” she recited. “Always behave. Don't break rules. And don't you see that Oakdown boy anymore.”

The Master snorted into his lasagna.

“I see, you really took their words by hearts.”

“You could call me some sort of a rebel,” she grinned. “Now eat your lasagna, Oakdown.”

He clearly adored the movie – Something about snobby children suffering while the underdog won the power over an entire world made of sweets seemed to be really endearing to him and she watched him laugh along the stupid puns and rhymes and decided that he wasn't half as big bad evil as he would like her to have believed.

As she _had_ believed for a while there.

She knew he could feel her watch her but he didn't say anything, just once in a while gave her little side-glances. They went through three movies before the Doctor capitulated and fell into a drowsy half-sleep-state beside him. She let her eyes flutter shut, her breathing calm and figured it was safe, now, to just catch a little sleep. He might wreak havoc while she was out, but she could handle it. Probably.

A bit later, she could hear him stop the movie. Could feel him hesitate, his eyes on her, knew what he was thinking even without their connection currently active.

She pretended to be a sleep a little harder and with the tiniest of sighs, he started the movie again, let himself sink down onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist. Chin resting on her shoulder, she could practically feel tension fade from his body, could feel him breathe out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and his mind relaxed next to hers.

Idiot, the Doctor thought with a smirk. They both knew the other pretended, yet somehow, he needed that safety.

 _Likewise_ , she unexpectedly heard his voice in her mind and a wave of content sleepiness came along with it.

Huh.

Or maybe he didn't.

When the Doctor woke up the next day from a relaxing, dreamless sleep, it was already late afternoon and the Master had vanished. A note on her counter, however, informed her that he had gone out to get some Mac and Cheese for today's slumber party.


	16. Aquarium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all the romantic, fluffy, amazing things my brain could've come up with, it somehow latched onto the one stupid thing I thought of while making dinner and I just......... let it. So here is an absolute shitpost in fic form and I have zero regrets.

A picnic, the Doctor thought. A simple movie. Maybe some fancy dinner. One of those great carnivals they'd opened on Trenton IV. She'd even go to watch some planets (legally) burn up with him.

She wondered, faintly, why her slightly insane partner, the man who knew her best than anyone else in the universe, her triple divorced husband was so incredible fond of besting himself in insane plans as an attempt to impress her.

The Doctor sighed, staring at the readings of her TARDIS one more time. Air around her was breathable. The coordinates he had given her for their date were not opening up to space or a free fall. Seemed save enough.

“Well then. Here we go.”

Stepping out of her TARDIS, the first thing the Doctor realised was that everything was _not_ okay.

“Finally,” she heard his voice from left, where he was leaning lazily against her TARDIS, waiting. “I thought I'd have to drag you out yourself. What have you been doing in there, reading through all of shelf C of your library again?”

“I'm at shelf H now, actually,” the Doctor muttered, trying hard not to look at.... _it_. “No, I was trying to figure out what you've done this time.” She cleared her throat. “What, uhm... _have_ you done, by the way?”

The Master beamed at her.

“Oh, you're gonna love this! I put a lot of work into it!”

“I... I can see that.” Her eyes flickered to... the thing, then quickly back to the Master. “From here, and I'm sure I'm wrong, but from here it almost looks like... like you put the entire city into a glass casing? And then uhm... filled it with water?”

“Almost the entire country, actually,” the Master grinned. “But I can see how you'd make that mistake. You could walk along the coast and watch the Aquarium for hours, if you wanted! Not sure... why you would, but you do like England, so I suppose...”

“I do like England,” the Doctor nodded. “Preferably the way it was before. Uhm. Did you say Aquarium?”

“Yup!” the Master straightened his back, smiling at her proudly. “A huge aquarium with real life people in it, just for you! Romantic, isn't it?”

“Oh,” the Doctor replied, hysterics barely contained in her voice. “There's still people in there, huh?”

“Well, of course.” He was deflating slightly now, catching onto her tone. “An aquarium without fish is just... boring.”

“Except,” the Doctor replied and she tried her absolute hardest to speak slowly and in a reasonable tone here, “except they're humans. Not fish. Humans.”

“Well... yeah. Humans are your favourite pets.”

She raised a hand, opened her mouth, the words already on her tongue, but oh, it was pointless, wasn't it?

Her hand sank back down and she sighed.

“Can they breathe in there?”

“Yup, I made sure none of them is actually drowning,” the Master rolled his eyes. “That'd ruin the mood a bit. Personally, I'd love an Aquarium where you can just see them fight for breath behind glass, but... Well, I know you.”

The Doctor nodded solemnly.

“Clearly. Clearly you do. Yup. You just know. Always the right things. For romantic dates. With me.”

He beamed.

“I knew you'd love it.”

“It's reversible, though, right?”

A little frown appeared on his forehead.

“Well, yes, of course. All it would take were a few buttons and the water would relocate and the glass is self-imploding, but...”

“Great. Reverse it.”

His lower lip was trembling dangerously and he quickly bit it, his eyes glowing with spite.

“But I did this for you!”

“I never asked for it!” she called out, waving her hands through the air, exasperation finally breaking free of her.

“You didn't have to!” she called out just as loud. “I did it anyway!”

“Well, don't!” she groaned. “Why? Why do you always have to... They're people! They're not fish to look at through glass windows! You can't just... do that to them!”

“Why not? It's funny!”

“It's not funny!” she ran closer towards the massive wall of glass he had erected and pointed at one of the human men, aimlessly swimming through the depths of the water, trying desperately to paddle with his legs to escape the floating bike coming his way.

Her lips twitched.

“It's a little funny.” Of course he had immediately caught the little laughter building in her chest, the utter bastard.

“It really shouldn't be,” she replied, trying not to look at the woman currently desperately clinging to a house's chimney to not drift through the entirety of the city.

“But it is,” he was beaming at her again. “Admit it. You think it's funny, too.”

“It's harmless,” she finally resigned. “For... for your standards, it's harmless. No one's dying of it. I appreciate that. Now reverse it.”

“Yeah, you're laughing. There's a laugh in your voice, I can hear it.”

He pointed at her, grinning widely and she couldn't help the little snort escaping her as she shook her head.

“You're utterly insane, you know that? ? You're the utterly biggest lunatic I have ever agreed to marry.”

“Three times,” he proclaimed proudly and the Doctor took a deep breath.

“If I admit it's somewhat funny, will you reverse it?”

“Yup.”

“Fine. Fine. It's funny. It is. It's utterly bloody stupid but it's funny. Now reverse it? Please?”

But the Master merely grinned at her, hands behind his back.

“I will. But don't you want to check out London, first? I built a tunnel straight to Downing Street.”

“I... why?” she asked, already fearing the answer.

“Because Boris Johnson trying desperately to chase his fake hair in the water is really hilarious, you'll see.”

She supposed, as she walked through a tunnel surrounded by desperate humans hammering against the glass for escape, that he'd never take her on something as simple as a picnic. Or a movie. Or a fancy dinner. Or any kind of carnival that he didn't build himself out of horrors from somewhere deep inside his mind.

But as she watched him point with cruel delight at humans and laughing at them out loud, she supposed she loved him... because of that?

Eh.

Probably in spite of it.

A dog swam past them, head raised and tail swaying gently in the water, as he excitedly barked at them, clearly enjoying himself greatly.

A little bit of both, the Doctor decided. It was a little bit of both.


	17. Standing on Tip-Toes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or how I call it: Two times the Doctor sneaked out on the Master on tip-toes and that one time they couldn't help her.

Sleeping with a human was... a delicate matter, for the Doctor.She didn't exactly mind that he was human – Humans were good, humans were warm and genuine and so full of wonder and emotion. She'd prefer humans to most of her species in absolutely every aspect.

But she had learned a while ago not to get too attached. They withered, they died, they suffered, they aged, they looked at her like some kind of unreachable star that was glowing down on them, when in reality, it was the other way around – She could never get too close or she risked burning up in wanting to be with them.

She could never truly be with them.

And so, while O lay next to her, peacefully slumbering, sleep simply wouldn't come to the Doctor. Her chest was heaving in sudden panic, her eyes flitting around in the darkness of his untidy little bedroom to find her clothes and all that stopped her now was the cold of the room without the blanket, was leaving the warmth next to her, saying goodbye to the gentle breath to the crook of her neck, the strong but gentle hand on her hip, that sweet curl of his dark hair and how it hung over his face so adorably.

She gave O the most fleeting of kisses to the forehead, then braced herself for the cold. She immediately missed his hand on her waist and he seemed to feel the same way, gave a little, dissatisfied grunt in his sleep as his hand hit the mattress.

“Sorry, O,” she sighed. “But you're better off without me. Probably. I'll text. ... Probably.”

She grabbed her clothes, piled them up in her arms and started sneaking out in tip-toes, trying her very best not to be caught. She wasn't sure she could do it – Explain to him all that kept them apart, when it pained her so much to even admit it to herself.

Leaving him right now took all she had.

Luckily, he didn't wake and so the Doctor quickly slipped into her clothes, gave the closed bedroom door one last, sad smile, then left into the night, like a shadow that had never truly been there.

Sleeping with the Master, well, that held entirely different problems. After having come to realise that O had never truly been as human as she had thought – Well, it had probably been inevitable. She had been weak for O ever since she's met him and even weaker for the Master for her entire life.

Self control was something that somehow seemed to slip whenever he was around.

So here she lay and he was holding her just like he had then. Head resting on her pillow, facing her, the same strand of curly hair hanging over his closed eyes, a hand loosely on her hip.

In fact, he looked so much like O right now, it made her hearts ache.

“You big old idiot,” she whispered into the night, wondering if it'd wake him up – Wondering whether she wanted him to, so he could stop her from what she was about to do.

“But even you must know it's best if I don't stay, don't you?” She smiled sadly into the night, watching his chest rhythmically rise and fall. “That's just not us. Hasn't ever been us.”

She paused for a second.

“Well, not anymore, anyway.”

She rolled sideways gently. His hand flopped to the mattress and she could see his face contort just for a moment. No sound this time – Maybe his subconscious was growing used to it.

What a stupid thought.

“I wouldn't even know what to say to you,” she whispered towards the bed, not sure who she was apologising to, him or herself. “Wouldn't even know if I woke up to you strangling me or kissing me. Nothing... nothing is simple anymore, in my life.”

She grabbed her clothes, took one last look back and vanished on her tip-toes, the TARDIS flooring making no sound beneath her feet.

Neither one of them was shocked when it happened again – The Master was actually quite smug about it. Well, he was smug about most things, so she tried not to let it get to her and just enjoy the moment.

Enjoying the moment was the easy part with him, always. It was the aftermath she struggled with. Somehow, the guilt of sneaking out on him only grew with every single time she did it. He couldn't, wouldn't, be surprised by this anymore, surely? Surely he had made his peace with it, accepted it as something that inevitably happened when they fell asleep beside another?

Surely she was in the clear.

The Doctor crawled out of the blanket, gently tugged at his arm to put it aside and blindly fumbled for her clothes on the floor... and fumbled... and... fumbled?

She gave the room a quick examination and tried to remember where her clothes had gone in the frenzy of the moment. He had been kissing her. Then started to undress her, pushing her towards the bed backwards. She remembered tons of kisses, his lips going down her neck, her collarbones, her breasts, now, _that_ was all firmly anchored in her memory.

What he'd done with her clothes? - Not so much.

She turned her head, giving a glare to the peacefully sleeping figure on the bed. Surely, she was just imagining things, right? He had not done that on purpose. He wouldn't be that petty just because she had sneaked out on him once or twice or five hundred times?

... What was she even saying, he was the pettiest person she'd ever met.

Okay, he definitely had not left the room. He'd barely even left her. His lips had definitely barely left her skin. She could figure it out – They had to be somewhere in here.

She checked under the bed, checked his wardrobe and then she saw it – A blue leg of her trousers innocently hanging down from the top of the closet.

He must have thrown them up there and not a single soul could tell her that hadn't been intentional.

“Bastard,” she muttered and tried to reach the leg to pull but it wouldn't budge. She looked up to find one of her suspenders was entangled at the wardrobe's back, blocking her. She pulled and pulled but the only thing falling down was her coat – It fell onto her face and made the Doctor stumble backwards against the bed.

Quickly, she pulled off the coat and turned around but the Master was still not moving, just lay there, snoring lightly.

She tried again. This time, she stood up on her tip-toes, tongue between her teeth, as she tried to reach the suspender in question and tug it upwards.

“You look like you could use a hand.”

She froze. Turned towards the bed.  
  
Empty.

Turned to her side where the Master stood, in his boxers, grinning at her half amused, half accusatory.

“Uhm. Yes, actually,” she called out. “You hid my clothes and now I can't reach them.”

He grinned, leaning against his bed post and waved at her to continue.

“Please. Do try again. The view is excellent.”

The... oh great. She was still naked. Naked and standing on her tip-toes, stretching up to finally reach her clothes.

“You're a petty bastard, you know that?”

He shrugged.

“Yes, I do. But in this case, I'm not sure who would win the most pettiness points – you're the one sneaking out on me, after all.”

“And you couldn't just let me, could you?” she spit, knowing he was right and hating the feeling.

“No, actually,” he replied in a biting tone. “I've gotten a bit tired of falling asleep next to you and waking up alone, forgive me.”

“Well, I do forgive you, I'm gracious like that, now if you could help me get my clothes back...”

“Sure I can.” He gave her his sweetest smile. “In the morning. After breakfast. But if you ask really nicely, I can lend you a shirt for that.”

“You can keep my clothes hostage!” she called and there must've been genuine terror on her face, because he took it in both hands and looked into her eyes seriously.

“Doctor,” he said. “Get to bed. The worst thing you'll have to deal with tomorrow morning is a shower with me and some breakfast before I send you on your way, okay?”

“But.. why?” she asked, lips dry. “Why can't I just leave now?”

“Because, you adorable coward, you have to stop isolating yourself and start living a little – What's the point of all your connections if you won't ever let anyone close to you, huh?”

You're already far too close, she thought. You know way too much.

He gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

“It's just me.”

His words had the soothing effect they had intended but still...

“But that's just it,” she called out desperately. “I don't... I can't be... I don't want you to get any wrong ideas. About what we are. If I stay, then... I mean, we can't be...”

He kissed her, again.

“Love, we are. The only one with wrong ideas about what we are has always been you. Now get back into bed. I'm tired.”

He grabbed her waist and threw her softly back onto the bed. The Doctor scrambled backwards, tried to rolled out of it again, but he threw a blanket over them and wrapped his arms around her until she lay still.

He was warm and comfortable and comforting and familiar and she... Huh.

“How are we working?” she asked. “We've been together all this time and I didn't even notice, how are we even working?”

She kissed her cheek sleepily.

“Go to sleep, Doctor. 's okay. Sometimes it's just working and you don't have to do anything about it.”

“Oh.”

She wasn't used to that, not having to do anything. She was a fixer of things. She was the man with the solutions. A problem that wasn't a problem left her... scared? Ohhh, that's why she had been scared, wasn't it?

Bit stupid, that, she realised as she watched him fall back asleep next to her, all snuggled up and safe in his arms.

There was nothing scary about this.


	18. Haircut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I have cramps, backpain and depression ruining my day, so here's something un-edited that I have somehow managed between all of it, I'm sorry if it's not good, I tried my best. <3

“Doctor, how good of you to come. Now that you're here to witness the destruction of...”

The Master stopped mid-sentence, staring.

“What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don't stop on my behalf. Clearly you knew I was coming.  
  
“I knew you were coming,” he replied, tone suddenly much more casual than when he had attempted to give his speech. “But I didn't think you'd bring that.”

“Bring what?” she asked, turning around to where he was pointing his finger at but there was nothing behind her. “What is it?”

“That dead animal on your head.”

She quickly shot up her hands, then let them sink with a dark glare as she felt nothing but her hair.

Granted, the new cut wasn't... looking quite as similar as she had thought it would when she had tried to fix it. But you come out of a Judoon prison and try to cut your own hair, thank you very much.

Actually, he'd probably be good at it.

“Come on, it's not that bad,” she tried meekly. “Bit of a new look, huh?”

He waved his hands, silent and frantic, at the fringed strands of hair standing into every direction and the little spot at the back she couldn't reach very well, where her hair had remained long and a little crooked. And then there was that one bald spot she had accidentally created...

Well... maybe he did have a point.

“Okay fine,” she mumbled. “It's a mess. I know. I just... my friends are on Earth and I decided they're better off believing me dead and I can't really... cut my own hair, it turns out and I was in prison for... I'm not sure how long and it grew and...”

And he had stepped closer, both hands stretched towards her and she took a step back instinctively, sure that whatever he was planning was murderous, but he just followed her, put both hands onto her shoulder and gently led her backwards, until the back of her legs hit a... chair?

He pushed her down lightly and pulled a set of scissors out of his pockets – Was he just carrying that around? Oh dear, he probably was.

“Hold your head still,” was all he said, a crooked smirk on his lips, before he stepped behind her and started weighing her hair in his hands – Or whatever was left of it.

“Have you done this before?” she asked and he shrugged.

“Not really. But can't do much worse than it already is, in all honesty.”

Fair enough.

He worked with quick, determined moves, not letting much hesitation come between him and the scissors. She could hear them snap, could feel hair fall down, gently swaying to the ground and she felt herself growing more nervous and nervous.

“You know,” she started doing the only thing that was proven to help against her nervousness – Babbling. “The Judoon really don't care about this sort of thing. Haircuts, basic hygiene? Not their kind of thing. But rude, them. And they stink, all of them.”

The Master gave her a tut and laid a hand underneath her chin, re-arranging her head. Oh, had she moved it? Damn, she had moved it while talking.

Feeling chastised, she tried to watch him with moving just her eyes, but she could barely make him out from that angle.

“You know how they get once you tell them, though? Prisoner has insulted the mighty race of the Judoon!” she spit in perfect Judoon-language. “Prisoner will live in solitude tract for a week! Old stubborn grumpy-pants.”

Again, patient fingers around her head, shifting it back ever so lightly.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I do it without noticing.”

He hummed.

“Didn't expect you to actually be able to hold still, don't worry about it.”

“Hey!” she called out, turning her head to glare at him abruptly. “I can hold still perfectly fine.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Starting... starting now!”

He stood so close, she could feel his chuckle vibrate behind her, could hear it, could feel the warmth of his fingers threading through her hair and she was surprised, honestly, how gentle he was. She was used to people tugging at her hair to get it to the shape they wanted to, but he did everything so painlessly, as if her head was the most precious thing.

Huh.

Odd that hands who could destroy so much could be so soft.

“You're gonna have to think a little quieter when I'm directly touching you,” she heard him smirk from behind. “I'm getting embarrassed here.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“You will be, if you go about and babble to anyone about what soft hands I have.”

The Doctor sat on her own hands, legs dangling as she looked on the ground and immediately, his hands were on her head again, pulling it upwards gently.

Damn it.

“Who would I tell anyway,” she muttered. “Didn't you listen? No one there.”

“I heard,” he hummed, sounding oddly satisfied.

Petty idiot.

“Not sure it's wise to insult the man who's currently in charge of your hair,” he grinned and stepped to her side to take care of the hair there.

“Like you said – Can't make it much worse,” she mumbled angrily and he grinned, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

“So let me get it right,” he sighed. “You've been in prison for who knows long, been regularly in solitary detention because you can't keep that pretty mouth of yours shut and now you're without friends, too?”

She chewed her lower lip and he tugged at her hair gently to make her stop moving again.

She really couldn't hold still, could she?

“Pretty much,” she brought out.

“Well, you're an idiot then,” he said casually as more of her hair fell to the ground with a snipping sound. “You gotta find yourself one of those human pets you like so much or you'll go nuts. Annoying as they are, at least they keep you together.”

“Can't,” she replied shortly. “Got them almost killed last time – you got them almost killed last time. I can't keep on... can't keep on putting people into those kind of risks just for my own selfish reasons.”

“Blahblahblah,” he imitated her, tongue out right next to her so she could see it, before he continued. “You hit that phase once every fifty years, get a grip.”

“I don't know why I'm even talking to you,” she hissed. “You're the least supportive person I know.”

“Well, naturally, I'm your best enemy,” he grinned. “But people talk to their hairdressers, we have that very trustworthy face, you see?”

“Sure,” the Doctor snorted. “I can totally see that.”

She frowned.

“Hey, isn't that a bit _very_ short?”

“Well, I can't leave that bald spot in there, can I?” he retorted. “Actually, I think it's best if I shave that side so they're all at the same length.”

“Shaving? No no no!” She jumped off the chair, almost taking the scissors with him and the Master rolled his eyes.

“Will you just trust me for once. I know what I'm doing.”

“No, you don't! You said so yourself!”

“Well, I tried it today and turns out, I'm good at it. Now sit back down.”

“Absolutely not!”

He pulled a mirror out of his pockets – Seriously? - and showed her the absolute mess on her head from his half-finished efforts.

“I... I liked my hair,” she said quietly. “It was nice and soft and all golden...”

“It'll grow back,” he assured her with a roll of his eyes. “I'm just making sure you look presentable in the meantime.”

She sat back down after a moment of hesitation, reminding herself that he was right – Whichever mess he was going to create now was going to grow out. So she might as well enjoy the almost peaceful company a bit longer.

The shaver tickled her a little, but felt alright all things considered. She was nervously trying to hold still as he led it over the side of her head, feeling more and more impatient to see the final outcome.

Finally, he put it to rest and blew against her head gently, trying to blow away some of the loose hairs.

The Doctor shivered lightly and he grinned.

“Doesn't look half bad on you, you know that?”

“Well, do I get to see or are you just leaving me in suspense to walk to my TARDIS in shame?”

He rolled his eyes and held up his mirror again. The Doctor shifted quickly to look at herself and... huh.

She hadn't expected that.

He'd given her a neat side cut, with her hair falling just _right_ to have it seem intentional and actually... well it looked... _good_?

“Oh,” it escaped her. “Oh, that's...”

He waited with raised eyebrows for the rest of that sentence and she quickly bit her lip.

“Well, it's alright. Thank you.”

The Master snorted. “Screw you, it looks gorgeous, just admit it.”

“Aw, that's so nice of you,” she grinned back as she got up. “You don't look half bad either.”

He leaned forwards, face so close to hers she could feel his breath on her skin.

“I know.”

She shoved him against the chest lightly but he barely fell back, a grin spreading on his face.

“Well, where's my payment, then?”

“Payment?” she asked, eyes widening. “You didn't say anything about-”

He kissed her quickly, before she could react or talk herself into a babbling fit – Lips pressing against hers firmly, hands wrapping around her hips and quickly, the Doctor found herself enthralled, her hands buried in his hair for now.

He slowly pulled back, a little smirk playing around his lips.

“Consider your debt settled.”

“You're so cheesy sometimes.” The Doctor had tried to sound accusing, but it was feathered a bit by the fact that she was chuckling. “I'll... I'll see you around then?”

She held up a hand with his detonator in it.

He opened his mouth.

“When did you...”

“I've always been a good pocket thief,” she grinned. “Thanks for the haircut.”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then walked off. From behind, she heard his voice calling after her.

“Doctor.”

“Yeah?” she stopped, turning around to where he still stood.

“I could come up with a new plan for tomorrow. And the day after. I probably still have a few in my notebook for a few days to come. But...”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered quietly to herself, turning around to hide her smile. “I'm finding myself a new pet.”


	19. Fireworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen listen, this is definitely the worst I've done for this challenge yet, it has no thread, no flow, it's un-edited, it's just Very Bad, but I don't care, because I stayed up all night last night to get a PS5 and I did, it worked, I could grab and order one, but boy oh boy, am I sleep deprived but uploading this means I am finally FREE, so forgive me. I know the prompt deserved better. But I just.... can't do more than this tonight, my brain is mush.
> 
> GOOD NIGHT.

“It's an old tradition we have,” O told her and his grin so bright, so genuine, she couldn't help but be enthralled by it.

She knew of New Year's, of course, she vividly remembered being regenerated right into one once, as the Master had used it for some deadly plot she'd – naturally – stopped.

Huh... Weird, she was thinking of the Master right now, when O was excitedly grabbing her hand, pulling her through the crowd of people right into the middle of everything, pulling her close against him.

“Tell me everything about it, then,” she smiled, because it made him happy and she liked to see O happy – It was such a rare view but somehow she could always make him glow, radiate joy when she was around. God, how she loved to just see him react to her like that. It made her warm and reminded her of who she had attempted to be, once upon a time.

“Well, we celebrate the new year, you know? Leaving the old behind, saying goodbye to what was bad and looking ahead, I suppose.” His smile crumbled a little. “It must be weird. For a time traveller. It must look so silly.”

“Linear time's not silly,” she promised him calmly. “I can turn a year into a century. But I can never have that feeling you have. That feeling of properly living time, of being in it and flowing with it and trying to hold on to it or letting it go.”

“Is that a good thing?” he asked, frowning, clearly confused.

“I don't know,” the Doctor shrugged. “Do you like it? Celebrating into a new year?”

O looked up to the skies thoughtfully, the first lost sparks of colours from the planned fireworks already lighting it up.

“I suppose I do,” he finally said, turning to smile at her. “There's something beautiful about it.”

There's something beautiful about you, she thought but couldn't bring herself to say it – She wasn't sure why. O was sweet, he wasn't going to use her feelings against her. Plus, he was smiling at her already, as if he had heard her thoughts.

“There's another tradition here,” he grinned after a while. “Of kissing the person you want to be part of your next year right when the clock strikes Midnight.”

The Doctor, very uncharacteristic, felt a blush build.

“Would you like to be part of my new year, Doctor?”

He felt nothing but cold and a little bit wet, as he stood in the pouring rain, staring up at the different colours exploding over his head. Fireworks, he thought, were very far off from the real thing, the beauty of a star exploding by his hands, leaving nothing but the glow of a supernova in its place.

Plus, it wasn't the same without kissing the Doctor, without seeing the gentle blush on her cheeks turning purple, then blue, then red.

She was beautiful on any normal day, but even more beautiful under fireworks light. Starlight of course, was a different level entirely, but he wasn't sure she'd ever let him see her like that again.

And anyway. The Doctor wasn't here. She had left him behind, fled with his own TARDIS, abandoned him yet again and once he'd find her... once he'd  _ reach _ her again, he'd...

“Bit lame in comparison to the last one we watched, don't you think?” a familiar voice asked next to her and he froze, before he turned towards the Doctor's smiling face and one of her hands waving to him.

“I mean, I suppose they haven't invented half of the pretty Catherine Wheels yet. You know, the ones you liked so much?”

He just stared at her and with a little sigh, she dropped her gaze to give him her full attention and drop the casual act.  
  
“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” he bit back. “Come to gloat?”

“Now exactly,” she replied coolly, turning back to face the fireworks rather than him. “I was just wondering... how is it? For you? Linear time? How does it feel?”

The Master spit on the ground bitterly.

“Slow. Slow and boring.”  
  
“Huh,” she replied, giving him a side glance. “I hoped it might teach you something, you know?”

“What? How to play a Tambourine? A 507th language? Because in that case: I can announce to you full success of your plans.”

“No,” she replied far too collected and serious for the coldness in his tone – Far more than he liked. “Something about the meaning of life. For them. Those people you try to harm so much. Look at them. Basking in the glow of the fireworks, living in the moment only. Nothing else matters and yet... every single day matters to them because they live it only once, Master. So it's precious to them. it's their whole own adventure.”

“None of this matters, Doctor!” he shouted, the bang of an especially loud firework accompanying his voice just _right_. “It's just a wash of grey into the next with nothing ever happening. The ultimate lack of purpose. You. _You_ were what mattered. And you left me in this world full of pointlessness! Trying to find some meaning to survive!”

“And burning down everything in your path?” she whispered, so quietly, he could barely hear her over the cheers of the crowds, the roaring and hissing of the fireworks. “Is that the meaning you found?”

“That's all I've ever been shown,” he replied just as calmly.

The Doctor huffed, head raised towards the lights above them and he could see her eyes pin to a Catherine Wheel until it had rolled into oblivion.

“Or maybe you just didn't look. I was there, you know?”

“No. You left. You took the only thing that ever mattered from me. If someone showed me how to burn down everything good, it's you.”

She didn't say anything for a little while, just watching him and the fireworks alternately.

“Don't you at least find them pretty?” she finally asked.

“They're just lights in the sky.”

“O liked them.” She had whispered that so quietly, he was almost sure he'd only heard it in his mind.

The Master shivered.

“O would've liked everything that lit your face up like that.”

They exchanged a long look, both rendered silence by the admission they knew the other had understood without actually admitting them.

“There was a time lights in the sky were all we thought about. I suppose I thought... maybe we could find it back,” the Doctor finally sighed, shoulders hanging slightly.

“To get away,” he mused. “We wanted to get away to them. But these... these are just... celebrating one more year of me being stuck. Like they're mocking me.”

The Doctor suddenly beamed wildly at him, whirling around with her rainbow coat.

“But that's not it at all” she smiled. “That's the beauty of linear time! It always goes on! So they just decide a day for their new start themselves. They just go and... reset the points. Start back at zero. This is them celebrating new chances, Master. A whole new world opening up in front of them – And they're determined to give it some colour before they've even taken a single step on it. It's beautiful!”

“I loved it, you know?” he burst out, taking a step towards her, dams breaking he didn't even know he had held back. “Being with you? It's like there were fireworks every day. Like I could be whoever I wanted to, as long as yu believed I could.”

He was so angry. How could something that had once made him feel so beautiful, so special, leave him so cold and empty and angry. It was as if rage had eaten away everything good he'd ever felt and sometimes, when she his that good time, she could make it stir inside of it until it got scared and rushed out. 

“And whatever happened to that boy?” she whispered and the Master couldn't help the sad smile, couldn't keep it from showing up.

“You stopped believing in him.”

“Never!” she called out, taking a step towards him now, meeting him in the middle. “Never have. Never will.”

He doesn't know how her hand even reached his cheek. He wanted to slap it away, but when his own hand rises, it holds hers closer instead, as if to beg hers to never leave him again.

She leans in first, he thinks, but can't be sure. There's multi-coloured lights reflecting in her eyes and he gets caught and suddenly, they're kissing, soft lips against his, so familiar, so achingly loving and gentle, it almost soothes the pain away, almost appeases the rage inside.

People shout happy new years wishes at them, making them jump apart and with confusion, the Master looked around until his dark eyes find the Doctor's, so warm as they gleam at him.

“Seems like I get to be part of your new year yet again. Care to take it off linear time a little?” she grinned. “Live in my century for a bit?”

“Oh Doctor,” he said, trying on a perfect mockery of O's sweet, awe-inspired tone but somehow... it just sounded like him, in love, because he was. “How I would love to.”

She took his hand – He supposed that was a new for this year, too. He hoped that was the only promise of a “never” she was about to break for him.

But he'd give her a chance, he supposed.

Off to new beginnings.


	20. Mood Rings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is extra long, to make good for the failures of the past. :P It even has an Easter Egg! Because it reminded me of.... something else I wrote.

“It's not funny,” she snapped at him. “None of this is funny. Why on Earth would you find it funny?”

The Master just quietly grinned at her, hands behind his back, the blue sleeves rolled up so that she could still see the corner of his yellow glowing wristband disappear behind the stupid plaid waistcoat.

She had memorised the chart when Stan had given it to them and she was currently closing her first around the sheet in her coat pocket, crumbling it up in rage, while her own wristband glowed in a burning red.

“It was your idea,” he reminded her, his voice trembling from the effort of suppressing a laugh – barely successful efforts, she should add.

“Well, it was a stupid idea!” she called out.

She tried not to look at it. Tried not to watch the yellow deepen – Only _he_ would feel amused at her terror.

“Yes, I know that, love,” he snorted. “I think I told you so myself. Several times. But no. 'Master, we need therapy. Master, we can't go on like this. Master, you're so handsome and sad, we gotta fix this so I can feel better about really wanting sex with you.'”

“I did not say that last part,” she replied tiredly and his grin only grew.

“Call it artistic freedom.”

“I'll call it disillusion of a twisted mind.”

“Call it what you want to, I saw your wristband turn red when I said it.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Red's stress, not horniness. We didn't get a colour for horniness, actually.”

A small comfort, but one nonetheless.

The Master grinned.

“I know. You're all stressed to keep it in your pants for me. And stressed I might found out.”

“You know, I'm beginning to think you're the only one in need of therapy,” the Doctor said with a roll of her eyes. “And just for the record, I might have to share my TARDIS with you for the duration of this.... experiment, but that doesn't mean we're sharing a bed.”

The Master's grin fell and he became serious, glaring at her.

“Fine with me, love. It's enough I can't escape your face during daytime.”

“Please,” she announced, waving her hand towards the corridor. “This TARDIS got over two thousand rooms. Find one as far away from me as possible and we'll have this done in no time.”

Counter-productive as it may be, the Doctor would feel almost relieved. Therapy, recognising that they needed help, that was one thing. But actually getting instructed to spend some time together to “sensitize to the other's feelings”? No thanks. She liked her feelings most when they were private and all hers, thanks very much.

Talking about feelings...

The Master's eyes were pinned to the wristband around the arm she had currently waved around, which, when she followed his gaze, she realised showed a deep, dark blue.

“I'm not lonely,” she called out, quickly letting her arm sink. “I'm not even alone. How could I be... what an idiotic... It must be malfunctioning!”

“Sure,” the Master snorted. “Sure it is.”

She saw a flash of brown as he put his own arms into his pockets, trying to shield his own mood from her as he started walking into the corridor. The Doctor, trying her best not to sulk while she tried to remember what brown was, gave him a little heads-up before heading towards her reading room.

She might not be allowed to leave his side for the duration of this... whatever it was, but she was determined to ignore him.

The Doctor let herself fall onto the comfortable little sofa before her fireplace, grabbed her battered old copy of her favourite Sherlock Holmes book and sunk one hand into her coat pocket, fishing for the piece of crumbled up paper to look at the colours and the moods they represented again.

Brown, she thought, as she tried to read the letters through the tears in the paper. “Brown, brown means...”

The Master stepped in with a roll of his eyes, a book and two blankets for them, throwing one over her head, before he let himself fall down beside her, his legs swinging over the side rest.

“Worry.”

She pulled down the blanket and appeared with tousled up hair and a dark frown on her face.

“You don't need to worry,” she spit. “I am not lonely.”

“Well, of course you're not, love,” he nodded patiently. “I'm here now, after all.”

“You really think a bit highly of yourself, don't you?” she replied dully, blowing at a blonde strand of hair to have it out of her face and spread the blanket out over her. “I mean, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised anymore, but still...”

The Master, instead of answering, simply nodded towards her wristband, which had taken the colour of a deep purple.

Blushing, the Doctor quickly pulled the blanket up to her neck, got her wrist-free arm out and opened her book, determined not to talk to him anymore.

She didn't have to look that colour up, she had remembered it effortlessly.

Love.

He turned out to be quite the reading companion. He was quiet most of the time, which was rare for him, and listened to her babbling about the brilliance of Sherlock Holmes with a patient look on his face. She was sure he didn't actually care, was just playing the part of the thoughtful, attentive partner to get out of this experiment as soon as possible. Next time they'd tell their therapist Dr. Kriie – Or Stan, how he insisted they'd call him – about their situation was in a week, and she fully expected him to get teary eyes and tell him how he saved her from death by impending loneliness or something as silly as that.

Not that it was all bad. Sitting here, reading with him. Usually, she just babbled all to herself about her meeting with Arthur Conan Doyle. Usually, there was no one there to put new logs into the fire when she was too engrossed into the books she was reading and started to freeze. Usually, she didn't bring blankets. Usually, there was no one coming in after half an hour of leaving, pressing a plate with freshly steaming food into her hands.

“Oh, I... thanks,” she told him, surprised, but he just shrugged and waved it off, told her to get back to her book, it was fine by him.

And when he had to raise his hand to eat his own food, the wristband he had so carefully hidden before, was the perfect shade of purple that he liked so much.

The Doctor smirked a little to herself as she ate her own – perfect – food.

Maybe they weren't quite the lost cause she had thought they were.

“Hey,” the Doctor asked a few hours later, when she came from the library to get the next Sherlock Holmes book in line. “Have you seen Valley of Fear? It's not on its spot.”

He guiltily let her see the cover of the book he was currently reading and she raised her eyebrows.

“Are you trying to tease me?”

The Master gave her a shrug.

“No, I just... you talked so much about it, I thought I'd give it a go.”

Stunned, the Doctor stared at him.

“Wait,” she finally brought out. “Wait. You've never read Sherlock Holmes before?”

“No, it never... appealed to me, I suppose. Bit boring, when your greatest enemy is already, basically, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Aw,” she grinned and sank down on the sofa, facing him this time, legs crossed. “No, but honestly, they're brilliant. You should start with the first one instead. He's doing it all with the power of his mind and you can say what you want, Watson is totally into it.”

The Master raised an eyebrow. “Isn't he married?”

“That's why you gotta start with book one!” she called out and jumped up to run and get it. She came back with her arms full of different versions, short story collections and adaptations, including DVDs of several movies.

“They're all brilliant,” she announced with a wide smile. “Well, not the BBC series, but we'll just skip that one.”

“Uhm,” the Master laughed, eyes flickering between her wrist-band, glowing pink for happiness and the huge pile lying between them on the sofa now. “O... okay?”

“Brilliant!” she called out. “Let's get started!”

They read until deep in the night. He had, after half an hour of her staring at his lips to see any kind of reaction and another half an hour of her asking “Where are you at, what is happening?” started to read to her and she'd, after only a little hesitation, rested her head on his lap, listening with her eyes closed.

At some point during Hound of Baskerville, she must've fallen asleep. She woke up an hour later by the Master's gentle shakes.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Let's get you into bed. This can't be comfortable.”

She rolled off his lap with a sleepy grunt, letting him help her stand upright with his arms snaking around her waist, as they walked slowly down the corridor to her bedroom.

“It was a bit comfy,” she muttered, only a little too late and he chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

His eyes were on her wristband, which, still, was glowing purple.

Stupid, treacherous, things, those. Stan would be delighted.

She tried to steal a glance at his, but as usual, he hid it securely away in his pocket.

The Master caught her glance and was grinning lightly as he took his arm off her waist to push open her bedroom door.

“There you go. I'll see you in the morning. If you're nice and go to bed without a fit, I'll even make you breakfast.”

He gave her a wink and made to slip out of the room, but the Doctor, her hearts pounding, quickly called out, “Wait.”

He turned around, hand already on the door knob.

“What is it?”

It was stupid, but her waist, where his hand had laid, felt weirdly cold now, without him and after having spent the entire day feeling him, on her, around her, in her mind, underneath her head, the idea of him walking away for an entire night felt oddly... cruel.

She glanced down at her own wristband, trying to identify the feelings currently haunting her but it had turned back to dark blue.

“Oh,” she muttered. “Would you look at that. I guess I am lonely.”

He snorted.

“Are you trying to..”

“No, I mean. Yes. But...” She shook her head lightly, a sigh escaping her. “Can you just sleep here? With me? It's... it's not bad. Having you around. You're all warm and... and nice to talk to. Sometimes.”

The Master raised an eyebrow.

“You're not supposed to talk. You're supposed to sleep.”

“Maybe I speak in my sleep, huh? Bet you wouldn't be surprised.”

He sighed.

“Fine,” he finally agreed. “But only because I know how much you're hating sleeping. Come on, get in.” He gently pushed her towards the bed. “And I'm sleeping on the right side.”

She crawled under the covers with a content grin, trying to ignore the way the darkened room filled with purple light as she pulled the blanket over both of them and crawled as close to him as she could without it being downright cuddling.

Not that she was minding cuddling much, but he always got terribly pedantic about it. Loosely holding her, that was fine. Cuddling? Fine when it happened while he was asleep – Or pretending to – but other than that? Masters don't cuddle.

And so she let her shoulders gently touch his, until he raised an arm to “loosely hold” her against him, sighing slightly as she curled up at his side and waiting for him to “fall asleep”.

His breathing evened after a few minutes and she used the possibility to sneak into his arms.

His breathing, again, evened after half an hour, when he _actually_ fell asleep, dragging the Doctor with him.

“Wake up, lovebird,” she heard his voice over her a few hours later. “Your eggs are getting cold.”

“Eggs?” she muttered in sleepy confusion, open her eyes with effort.

“Eggs,” he confirmed. “And bacon. And some toast. And some pancakes too, drowned in syrup, because I know you're disgusting.”

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, taking the tray full of delicious breakfast he was handing her, before sitting down with his own.

“Since when are you up?”

He shrugged. “Few hours. You know I don't sleep much.”

He bit into a slice of bacon and she watched him thoughtfully.

Yes, she did know. But the last time they had spent a night together had been... in so long. They had been different people then – And he'd not mentioned it since.

“Don't worry,” he said as he felt her eyes on him. “I've not read any Sherlock Holmes without you.”

“I'm wasn't worried,” she quickly reassures him, side glancing her wristband. Huh. Still purple. Odd.

The Doctor raised her hand and knocked against the plastic a few times with her finger.

“I swear, it must be malfunctioning,” she muttered. “It doesn't change colours at all anymore.”

Her eyes flickered back to the Master and then quickly down on her breakfast as she saw the smug smirk he regarded her with.

“I'm telling you!” she called out, as she shoved a fork full of eggs into her mouth. “Not even I wake up in the morning with love in my hearts! Just a bit of sleepy desperation to stay in the sheets.”

“You've got some egg in your face,” was all he said and when she ran over her lips with her hand, trying to wipe it away, he laughed and said it was still there and when she pressed together her lips and asked him to just brush it off, he kissed it away and when his hands buried into her hair, she could see a flash of purple around his wrist and she felt a bit better.

About the egg and the mood bracelet-betrayal.

“So, what did we find out on your first day, hm?” Stan asked them, clipboard ready on his lap. “How was it, realising the emotions of the other to everything you said?”

“I wouldn't know,” the Doctor replied lamely. “He hid his wristband for almost the entire time.”  
  
The Master, however, grinned.  
  
“I found out I'm _very_ lovable.”

Stan raised an eyebrow towards the Doctor, who, with a sigh and a mood that was _very_ far from loving, held up her arm. The bracelet around it was still showing a deep purple.

“It's malfunctioning,” she muttered. “Got stuck on purple.”

“That shouldn't be possible,” Stan replied with furrowed browns. “Are you sure? Sometimes the strongest of our emotions can take control over all the other ones, even if they seem to be.. more present.”

“It's either malfunctioning,” the Doctor replied with a dry throat, “or he's hacked it.”

“Me?” the Master replied, innocently pressing a hand to his hearts. “Hacking, a device so easily reacting to telepathic suggestions, protected by only three neural firewalls? Unbelievable! The things I get accused of, Dr. A shame, aren't they?”

“It's possible,” Stan replied after a little while, dryly. “But you have to understand that the wristbands still only react to actual moods and emotions.”

“Meaning what?” the Doctor asked, frowning.

“Meaning that if they were to react to telepathic suggestions, that's because they were transmitted by the respected telepath.”

The Master's mouth fell open, offended sounds trying to make their way out.

“That's not.. I don't... that's absolutely not...”

“Now, under these circumstances, I'm not sure if there's any... point in continuing the experiment, but if you...”

“No,” the Doctor reassured him quickly, her eyes still on the Master, who sat on the edge of his chair, pale and confused. “No, I think, actually... I found out all I needed.”

She offered the Master her hand and, for a little while, he only stared at it, before his eyes slowly wandered up to him.

“We've got a whole lot of short stories still to go through,” she smiled and with a shaky breath, he he took it.

“Okay. But you should know that I don't like Moriarty. I think he's a serious threat and I don't like it.”

“Eh, he's alright,” the Doctor shrugged. “Every hero needs a good enemy.” They took off their bracelets and tossed it into the trash on their way out. “Plus, I think they're kinda into each other.”

The Master gave her a grin from the side, as they walked out, hand in hand.

“The hero and the villain? That can never work.”

“You know... I think if they just try hard enough, they'll be fine.” She gave him a quick kiss to the cheek. “And if they stop trying to hide away their love for another.”

“Ah,” the Master sighed. “Maybe we should tell them that.”

“Maybe we should.”


	21. Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... escalated and I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry. :D And hey, that's the first one I wrote that has a bit of smut in it. 's not much though and not very explicit. We're all good.

“This is all your fault,” she told him for the hundredth time, as they cowered in the wet, thorny bush, facing the street.

“So you said,” the Master grumbled, still working on fixing the bloody teleportation device that had brought them into this mess in the first place. “And I keep telling you, if you hadn't felt the need...”

“Hadn't felt the need?” she called out. “You were about to throw me into a swimming pool filled with deadly cyber squids, what did you want me to do, not cling to you?”

“It would've been the polite thing to do,” he murmured, tapping his fingers against the glass of the screen with a disgruntled frown. “Just let your arch enemy get away with it sometimes, make yourself some friends. Have you ever considered that?”

“You know, I did, and then I decided I prefer not being _torn apart by killer squids_.”

“I would've enjoyed it,” he replied with a shrug, finally putting down his arm and staring at the street in front of them intently.

“How about that red one? Looks big enough.”

“You really want to do this?” she asked. “Steal a car and drive it to the other side of the country?”

“Do you have a better idea to get our ships back?” he grumbled. “This thing isn't working anymore since you smashed it and until we found ourselves some money and arrive there by train, my cyber squids will have eaten half of Sheffield.”

“They can't get out of the tank though, surely?” she asked, eyes wide and he replied with nothing but silence and a single raised eyebrow.

“Okay,” the Doctor sighed, turning her head back towards the street. “Stealing a car it is. But I don't like the red one. How about that blue one over there?”

The Master gave her a pointed look.

“What?”

“You only want it because it's blue.”

“Yes. So?”

He shook his head gently.

“Nothing love. It's just... that's a rubbish car.”

“It is not, it's charming.”

“You would say that,” he snorted. “You say the same thing about your rubbish TARDIS.”

She jumped up, thorns scratching at her coat as she did and a little twig with green leaves caught in her hair.

“You take that back, Mr., right this moment! My TARDIS is not rubbish, she's gotten me through everything, every single ridiculous plot you have thrown at me, she has survived and...”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back down, so close to him, she could feel his hearts beating against her chest and his breath on her face as he spoke.

“Stop being an idiot,” he hissed. “We gotta be inconspicuous if we want to steal that bloody stupid blue car in the middle of a main street, okay?”

“We're taking the blue car then?” she grinned.

He waved at her dismissively, turning back to the street.

“Yes, yes, if it gets you to shut up, please, we're taking the smaller, older, slower blue car.”

Beaming, the Doctor positioned herself back behind the bush, staring intently at the car.

“So, I saw the driver go into that hair salon. If I sneak in there, talk sweet to him and grab the keys, you could start the motor... how fast?”

“Fast enough to get away,” he grumbled. “But how about I walk in, no one talks sweet, and I just ki...-”

“Yeah, absolutely not.”

“It's not like you don't have enough human pets to sweet talk already, is all I'm saying...” the Master muttered under his breath.

The Doctor gave him a sharp side glance.

“There's a time and a place for jealousy, this is not it. We gotta get this plan done.”

“I'm not jealous,” he cried out. “Merely stating facts.”

But she wasn't listening. With a little, casual jump, she got onto her feet and stepped out of the bushes towards the hair salon with determined steps.

It was warm and dry inside and the Doctor, still feeling the wet patches on the knees of her trousers from where she had kneeled on the ground, smiled.

Arms dangling back and forth, she strolled through the salon, greeting left and right, trying her best to seem like she belonged here, before she found the man sitting in a corner, in front of a mirror, hair currently under inspection by a young man.

“Hi there,” she smiled. “Getting a haircut, are you?”

The man gave her a confused side glance, unable to shift his head in the slightest.

“Evidently.”

“Yeah, yeah. I was thinking of getting one for my friend. He's waiting outside in the rain. Shy, you know? But his hair is getting very long and it's constantly falling into his face. O, I say, you need a hair cut and know what he says? From all the money he'd spend on hair cuts I'd say he needs, he could buy a new car, he says.”

Everyone in the room was watching her with mild amusement now.

“Great,” the man said, as his hairdresser started cutting the first strands. “Good for him.”

She stepped closer, eyes fixed on the jacket hanging around the back of his chair, before she let them wander up the back of his head.

“But that looks so good, shorter, I mean, honestly, I should definitely make him an appointment. I wish he wasn't so grumpy all the time. Never steps out of his comfort zone, you know?”

Her hands fumbled blindly down the jacket, trying to find the keys and her fingers finally ran over a light bulge in the right pocket.

The Doctor swallowed.

“Of course, that's part of why I love him. Wouldn't be half as fun, would it, if I couldn't entice him to new adventures once in a while. Love the look on his face, too, whenever he lets me drag him into them. He's a bit of a drama queen, but he does like the occasional...” - her fingers closed around the keys, while the hairdresser stumbled to a better spot to the man's side, looking confused - “... temptation,” she smiled and stepped away from the man's head.

“Mhm-mh,” he replied, clearly deciding that it absolutely didn't matter what he said, she wasn't going to be stopped from babbling.

For once, that assessment was incorrect.

“Well, I'll leave you to it,” she smiled. “Tell O what great work is being done in here and maybe he'll show up. See you.”  
  
She waved with one hand, the other still closed around the keys in her coat pocket, as she hastily rushed out of the hair salon, feeling a tad guilty.

It'd be okay, she told herself. She could always bring the car back after.

The Master was with her within seconds, sprinting out of the bushes with unnecessary dramatic, grabbing the key out of her hands and running towards the car. With a shrug, the Doctor strolled after him.

“It's okay,” she laughed. “I don't think he noticed. I'm that good at sweet talking.”

He gave her a deadly glare.

“He'll notice as soon as we start his car, that I can guarantee you. Humans are weird about their vehicles.”

“Glad us Time Lords are so utterly sensible and not at all attached to them,” she replied with a little smile as she waited for him to open the car doors. “We'd never get into a stupid heist to get them back.”

He rolled his eyes at her.

“Okay, here goes...”

With a quick turning of the keys, he opened the doors and she slipped in at the same times as he did on the other side of the car. Everything stayed quiet and while he worked on starting the motor, the Doctor thought that maybe, maybe the man hadn't noticed, but just as they set the car backwards, he stormed out of the hair salon, the towel still wrapped around his shoulders, shouting something loudly.

“Quickly,” she hissed and the Master gave her a death glare.

“Really?” he asked, as he kicked down the gas pedal. “You think we should hurry? I had no idea!”

“Oh, stop being a pain and _drive_!”

The car sped around the corner and the Doctor found herself pressed back into the seat, hands in the air and cheering as the streets of the city rushed past them in a blur.

“Look at us!” she called over the roar of the engine. “Car thieves!”

“Look at you,” the Master replied with a smirk, eyes flickering over to her briefly. “Enjoying criminal activity.”

The Doctor gave him a little grin.

“A little criminal offence never hurt anyone. So we stole a car. No one's hurt, right?”

“That dude running onto the street, shaking his fist at you might disagree,” he pointed out but the Doctor merely shrugged.

“Yeah well. I'll take it back. He'll be fine.”

“'Course you will,” he said with a shake of his head. “And here I was, being proud of you for a moment there.”

She leant over to him, too high on adrenaline and excitement to overthink her decisions and rested her cheek on his shoulder, grinning up to him cheekily.

“Oh yeah? Did I make a good baddie?”

“Until now, you did.” She could see his dark eyes flicker down on him, could see some spark of _something_ in them, as his lips twitched into a mild smirk. “But I knew that before.”

Because of course he did. Of course they'd run through the Academy with no care for the rules, making up the most absurd plans to get things they never truly needed, watching their teachers go crazy over them, sneaking out, sneaking back in, sneaking into kitchens, sneaking into empty classes to make out, sneaking into the library to steal books for experiments over their capacities...

It was like being children again.

It was glorious.

But they weren't those kids anymore.

With racing hearts, she pushed herself away from his shoulder again, awkwardly looking out of the window, eyes unfocused as trees and houses rushed past them.

The Master gave her a quick glance.

“Is there a map somewhere in the glove compartment? I'm not exactly big on English geography.”

The Doctor took a look and scrunched up her face as she came back up from it. “Old, half-eaten burgers. Some sticky candy. A few pound notes. A shoe.”

“Just one?”

“Just one,” she confirmed with a shrug. “Guess he didn't need it anymore.”

“But he needed the other one?”

They exchanged a look.

“Best not to wonder,” the Doctor mumbled and he agreed with wide eyes.

Just as he was looking back onto the street, the Doctor screeched “Look out” and threw herself onto the steering wheel, swerving past a car dangerously. The Master pushed her away with his arm, giving her an annoyed glare.

“I was about to hit the brakes.”  
  
“It would've been too late!”

“It would so not have been. You're just being dramatic.”

“I'm not dramatic! You were about to ruin our only means of transport on the middle of the motorway!”

“I was not!” he called back. “And anyway, we gotta stop at the next rest stop and buy a map.”

“Great,” she replied, “Do make sure you find the brakes _then_ , will you?”

“I was about to halt!” he shouted.

“No you weren't! Your foot wasn't even remotely heading towards the pedal!”

“You weren't even looking at my foot!” he cried. “You were looking at the street.”

“I know your feet! They don't brake! Ever!”

“Don't be ridiculous,” he spit and got in the lane to drive off the motorway at the next rest stop.

“I'm not being ridiculous, you're just being a bad driver.”

“Oh, that's rich, coming from you,” the Master snorted. “I'm an excellent driver. You're the one who crashes their TARDIS into trees regularly. And by that, I mean trees five years and three thousand miles off from the tree you were _meant_ to crash into.”

“Well, I'm not sure if someone's informed you, but this is not a TARDIS,” the Doctor replied in her most patronising tone, just to piss him off. “You can't drive it like it'll just dematerialise before crashing into the car in front of you.”

“Well, I've seen you drive Bessy”, he said with a nasty little grin towards her as he stopped the car. “And even if I had come remotely close to crashing into that car, I'd have been a better driver than you, _still_.”

She got out of the car with trembling hands, lips pressed together in what was definitely _not_ a sulk and slammed the door shut behind her so loudly, it echoed on the little parking lot.

“I drove Bessy just fine,” she brought out through gritted teeth as soon as he'd closed his own car door with a little smile and a hum.

“Sure you have. Everyone could've, in that tempo you had. Of course, I'm not sure you were allowed on the streets with it, considering people walking by could've overtook you.”

“That's not true! She had a turbo mode and you know it!” she pointed at him accusatory. “You're just trying to rile me up!”

“And it's working exceptionally well,” he replied with a nasty grin.

Someone next to them was chuckling. They both turned around immediately to face a young man, maybe in his early 20's, with a baseball cap on his head, laughing at them.

“Get a room, you two.”

They exchanged a look then turned back to the boy in synchronised movements.

“We don't need a room,” he Master said.

“You clearly do, dude, you're totally into each other.”

Laughing, the boy stepped away towards the little shop at the side. The Master quickly grasped his TCE from inside his coat pocket and aimed, but the Doctor pulled down his arm.

“He's just a kid,” she hissed.

“So what, he's far too cheeky for his age.”

“You were worse.”

Against his will, a little laugh spilled from the Master's lips and he let his arm sink.

“So I was. Let's go.”

They walked into the shop side by side. On the shelves, they found a selection of various maps and just picked the first they found. While the Doctor immediately headed towards the counter to pay, the Master, however, strolled through the aisles and added some sodas and candy and sandwiches to their order.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a little whisper as he stepped up towards her with his arms packed. “This isn't our money, remember?”

“Doctor, we're gonna be driving the entire day and I know you, it won't take long until that gross burger and the sticky candy will look appealing to you. I don't want you puking into the car.”

She took a deep breath and turned towards the cashier, who was watching them with an amused expression on his face.

“Freshly in love, huh?”

“Excuse me?” the Master grunted and behind them, they heard the boy from earlier chuckle into his coffee.

“My sister used to be like this with her boyfriend all the time. Always bickering. Gave them a kick in their relationship, somehow.”

“We're not together,” the Doctor threw in quickly, not sure how long she could stop him from shrinking the entire store anymore.

The cashier, however, just grinned.

“Sure. I'll give it a day, then. Road trips can be quite romantic.”

“Not with him, they're not,” the Doctor smiled back sweetly. “He's the destroyer of all romance, I think we're safe.”

“Aw,” the Master replied, the edge of a threat unmistakeably in his voice. “So sweet of you to say that you feel _safe_ with me, my love.”

“I wouldn't get used to it,” she replied. “But since I'll be the one driving now, I feel safer already.”

The Master broke out into wild, loud laughter, leaving the two men in the shop to stare at him.

“Oh, you really think that, do you? That I'd let you drive?”

“I don't think you have a choice after that stunt you pulled.” The Doctor crossed her arms before her chest. “I'm not driving anywhere with you as long as you're steering, that's for sure.”

“Oh no.” He clapped a hand in front of his mouth in fake shock. “Whatever will I do? It's not like I could just _let you stand here and drive on my own.”_

“You wouldn't!” she called out with a glare and he smiled at her deviously.

“You just watch me.”

He slapped a few notes onto the counter, took the things and headed out the door, not even turning around to see if the Doctor followed. She followed after him quickly, determined not to let him rush off without her.

The shop clerk and the boy in the back exchanged a look.

“Married next week,” he said as he closed his cash register. “I'm telling you.”

“Here, take this.” With a shove, the Master loaded all the contents in his arms onto the Doctor, before burying his hand into his coat pocket and searching for the keys.

Reassured, now that she held his snacks hostage, the Doctor waited for him impatiently. With a frown, the Master pulled out his hand and tried the other pocket.

“Where the hell did I put it,” he muttered and the Doctor, having a perfect view into the inside of the car through the windows, felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Uhm, Master...?”

“Maybe I put it into my inside pocket...”

“Master.”

“What? Can't you see I'm busy?”

“You absolute twat. You left them in the car.”

“I did not!” he called out and looked through the window she was pointing at with her single finger currently not buried underneath snacks. “Oh,” he added. “Look at that. I did.”

She nodded solemnly, lips pressed together and for a second, there was a silence between them as the Master stared into the car and she stared at him, arms still full with their shopping excursion.

“So uhm... No point in me blaming you, I'll assume.”

“Not so much, no.”

“Great.” He fished out the remaining money and pressed it into the Doctor's hand. “Drop that stuff here and go buy us some blankets. I'll smash the window in and get us the keys.”

“You're not gonna...-”

“I won't drive off without you,” he sighed. “You can take the map if that helps.”

She walked off with the map securely in her coat pocket and when she returned a bit later with a single wool blanket, there were window shards lying on the pavement. The Master, leaning against the door, threw her the keys and they landed on top of the blanket.

“You're driving,” he sighed. “I give up.”

She gave him a little grin.

“That's right. You admit I'm the better driver now.”

“Definitely not the best blanket shopper, though,” he replied with a frown as he looked down on it. “I told you to get us two.”

“We didn't have enough money,” she replied with a shrug.

He looked at her stunned.

“So, stealing a car, that's no biggie, but the blanket is where you draw the line? One of us is gonna freeze to death with the window smashed.”

“We can just share,” she replied as she got into the driver's seat. “It's not like we're babies.”

“Right,” he muttered under his breath as he sat down beside her. “Because we're so good at that.”

With a dark glare, she spread out the blanket over their laps and started the engine carefully, determined to pull off the perfect drive.

  
It was getting chilly. The rain had already cooled off the air and now it was getting late and the daylight was slowly creeping away behind grey clouds. Right next to the broken window, a constant stream of wind crashed against her, making the Doctor shiver as she drove.

She'd actually gotten off the motorway a while ago and picked a winded country road instead, just to escape the biting wind for a bit.

“I've seen Daleks hovering faster than you,” the Master commented after a while.

“It's too cold to drive fast,” she replied, her teeth clacking as if to underline her words. “You try driving fast when you catch all the wind.” She frowned and threw him a glance. “Is _that_ why you let me drive?”

The Master's lips twitched.

“Me? Thinking that way? The things you accuse me of, Doctor.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she said, reddened hands on the steering wheel clenching.

“If you drove faster, we'd be out of the cold sooner, you know that, right? Very simple equation.”

“It's getting late, can't we just... take a room or something and wait for tomorrow morning?”

“A room?” the Master asked. “And with what money?”

She chewed her lower lip in desperation and the Master sighed.

“Drive up to the right.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

She stopped at the side of the empty, dark road, getting out of the car to walk a little, try to warm up her stiff limbs.

The Master, in the meantime, went onto a mission of using the wrapping paper around his sandwiches as a cover for the hole in their window. He fished out some duct tape from inside his pockets and connected it improvisatory with the frame of the window.

“It's not much, but might keep some heat in,” he sighed. “Come on, we're not driving tonight anymore.”

He lowered the seats until they were almost lying flat and started the engine to turn on the heating in the car. When he climbed onto his seat and spread out the blanket, however, the Doctor climbed in with him, curling up in his arm to avoid the edge of the narrow seat.

He gave her a shocked look.

“Spreading the blanket over two seats isn't working,” she explained with a shrug. “And I'm bloody freezing. You feel warm, okay?”

She laid back down, knowing she was stretching his patience a little, but after a minute of stunned silence, she could feel his hands on her back as he shifted into a comfortable position, pulling her into his arms, the blanket wrapped around the two of them tightly.

So they laid there for a while, silent in the darkness of the abandoned street, hearing nothing but peaceful chirping of crickets in the distance, and their own, calm breaths. His hearts were beating beneath her ear and it was comforting, somehow.

“Can you see the stars?” she asked after a while, feeling sleepy. “Through the window?”

He turned his head as best as he could in their position and looked outside.

“Mhm-mh,” he muttered. “A little.”

“They look so clear out here,” she replied, climbing up his chest a little to get a better view.

“'S not too bad, I guess,” he yawned and the Doctor looked up at him with a little smile lighting up her face.

“Yeah. You'll see. We have our ships back in no time.”

He raised a hand carefully, as to not to shift the blanket, stroking a strand of blonde hair out of her face, eyes narrowing down on hers thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” he replied finally after a short pause. “Right.”

They must've had fallen asleep some time after this, because when the Doctor woke up, it was far too hot. The heating had run the entire night, the Master was pressed against her, radiating heat and the blanket was keeping her trapped like a cocoon.

“Master,” she mumbled, lips not quite obeying her yet as she shook him awake gently. “Master?”

“Huh?” The arm that had been around her back pressed her against him a little tighter and she shook him again.

“Wake up. It's too hot.”

He blinked his eyes open and looked down on her.

“Oh.”

Both arms fell off her quickly and the Doctor managed to roll off him, back into the driver's seat, kicking away the blanket as she did.

The Master sat up, face contorted to a painful grimace as he stretched his limbs.

“You must've cut off at least three of my veins,” he groaned.

“Believe me, I wasn't exactly comfortable, either,” the Doctor lied, trying to ignore the way her hair stuck damply against her forehead.

He gave her a long look, a little, genuine smile on his face.

“I wasn't complaining.”

“Yeah, well,” she mumbled, not sure what to reply. “We should, uhm.. move a little before we get going again.”

“Right. Yeah.”

They walked up and down the little grass patch they had parked on, enjoying the fresh, cool morning air on their faces waking them up, as they stretched their legs a little, then got off onto the road again.

The Master led her with the maps on his lap, made sure she ate some sandwiches and even offered her some of the candy. It was working, for a while there, until he, got, well... _bored_.

“At least let me drive, if you're not going to talk to me!” he whined and she sighed.

“You know I can't read maps,” she finally conceded. “And you know I have to concentrate on driving.”

“But it's boring! If you make me 'admire' one more stupid human village, I'll write down its name and burn it down later.”

“It's not the village's fault,” she explained patiently and the Master grunted.

“No, it's _yours_. That's why I'm burning it down. To punish _you_. No one else is ever gonna bother to be upset about them, anyway.”

“You know,” she replied with a sweet smile. “Maybe, if you were less of a pain in the ass, I'd bother to talk to you, has that thought ever occurred to you?”

He stared at her, mouth hanging open, and if her patience hadn't already been at a breaking point, she'd have felt guilty about it. Maybe.

“Ambleside,” he read loud and pronounced from a sign they passed by. “That's with an s for side. Consider it _burnt_.”

“Oh no,” she replied tonelessly. “Whatever will I do? One more stupid plot I have to stop, as if you not being able to loose isn't what got us in this mess in the first place.”

“You know what?” he called out loudly. “Why don't you shove your massive ego up your own arse! I don't want to talk to you anyway. You're even more annoying than this stupid, boring country on this stupid boring planet with its stupid boring people.”

She hit the brake, abruptly and suddenly and let the car roll to the side of the road again, turning towards him with a glare.

“Then why don't you get out, hm? See if you can walk to your TARDIS. Maybe that's a little less _boring_.”

He glared at her, eyes narrowed, as he sat up straight in his seat again, head leaning towards her.

“Maybe I will,” he replied, eyes widening in craziness. “Maybe I'll kill everyone I meet along the way. How'd you like that?”

She leaned towards him too, now, eyes unwavering as she glared back at him.

“Maybe the sacrifice would be worth the _quiet_ ,” she replied. “Ever thought about that?”

As if agreed upon, both their eyes wandered down to the other's lips without another word and somehow, the Doctor wasn't quite sure how and who moved first and why this was even happening, they were clinging to one another, kissing hard. His hands were in her hair, tugging, pulling. One minute he was dragging her away from him, then he pulled her closer, lips crashing together, teeth meeting with clacking sounds as both attempted to bite the other's lips and it was good, it was so good. She could feel a heavy rock of stress and anger and annoyance just roll off her as he started climbing over to her seat, pressing her into the leather and kissing her even more intently, hand under her shirt, legs pressing her in, erection stroking hip.

“You better make this quick,” she brought out between kisses, as if, somehow, he was the only one wanting this. “If I have to spend another night with you, it'll drive us both insane.”

He laughed against her neck, lips wandering down her skin, hot and wet against her and she threw her head back, let him pull down her suspenders with snapping sounds.

“Bit late for that, love,” he muttered, hands at the seams of her trousers and he pulled. “I think we're already very much there.”

He took her on the driver's seat and all she could do was wrap her legs around his hips and moan, eyes unfocused on the window, as if to check if someone was driving by, seeing them, but truth was, if someone would, she'd probably not even noticed – He was all she could focus about right now, pushing in and out of her, shaking up the whole car and her along with it, whenever he pushed her back against the seat and she just lay there when he had come inside of her, legs and arms wrapped around him, unwilling to let go.

“Less bored now?” she asked after a little while of them just panting together and he laughed, breathlessly, before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Definitely.”

It turned out, they had to spend yet another night together after all. This time, none of them even discussed it, when she just rolled over to the side of the street, he had already spread out the blanket and moved over to the edge of the seat to make her space.

She was curled up in his arms again, feeling his warmth, listening for his heartbeats and looking out at the stars and he held her, close to himself, fingers now trailing down her skin softly, over her neck, over the side of her back, over her thighs... She let him stroke her to sleep gently, and when she woke up in the next morning, they were tangled up in one another, sweaty and feeling oddly content.

When they finally reached their TARDISes, she was almost sad.

Well, almost.

There they stood, parked next to one another, looking like the most beautiful view she'd ever seen. Her home, her friend, her safe, quick method of transportation.

Well, almost safe. Not always accurate. But definitely a home.

“Here we are.”

She stopped the car with a last, reminiscent pat onto the middle of the steering wheel, accidentally honked loudly and quickly killed off the engine.

The Master shook his head with a little smile.

“Here we are.”

They both sat, for a minute, unsure what to say.

“Well...”

“Yeah,” he replied.

“That was...”

“Mhm-mh.”

“You'll take care of the Cyber-Squids, right?”

“Consider it done,” he muttered. “I just want to go home.”

“Yeah. Yeah okay.”

They got out of the car and stepped back into the open.

“Didn't you want to give it back?” the Master asked curiously as the Doctor locked the door and dropped the keys onto the floor.

“I was,” she sighed. “But that was before we defiled the driving seat.”

The Master grinned.

“Right.”

“Well,” the Doctor said again. “That was... something.”

They stared at each other for a while, neither of them unsure how to be alone, right now, after so much time spent with the other.

“I... tea?” the Master finally brought out.

Hesitating, the Doctor threw a glance at her TARDIS.

“Well. She'll be pissed either way. Might as well.”

With a little grin, he led her into his TARDIS and she let him get busy in the kitchen while she fiddled around with his console, trying her best to delete any records of Ambleside off his data banks.

Better safe than sorry, really. And if he were to catch her, she thought, as she heard his steps down the corridor and the soft clanging of cups, not moving in the slightest, well, she'd just have to let him take her against the console.


	22. Cuddling on a rainy day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really just a little scene without much plot I wrote down, but I hope it makes someone smile today, nonetheless. <3

None of this, she thought, as the first grey clouds followed her out to the seaside, none of this was going as it should've gone.

She had been so determined, when the Master had shown up with some silly plan to take over the sea monsters in the water, to not let him spoil her mood. She'd placed down her picnic blanket unbothered, spread it out on the soft grass around the sea, had placed the basket with all the snacks she had prepared on it, had turned around to his stupid snickering face and kicked him in the shins.

And that was that.

He'd sulked the entire twenty minutes she had had before the first drops of rain had come down on her, but not continued his plan and all could've been well if she had just somehow gotten rid of him and the rain in one go.

Instead, the sky cracked open to completely pour down on her and the Doctor, after a silent minute of just sitting there like a miserable pile of wet clothes, the Doctor packed her things together and got up.

The Master followed her, because of course he would, like the dark clouds, he was always there to give her misery. He was shaking with silent laughter the whole way up the hill back to the little hut she was staying in.

All she had wanted was one single, peaceful vacation.

“Did you do that?” she asked, as soon as she was in the dry safety of the hut. She'd try to close the door after herself, but he'd put his foot in and followed her in within seconds. Honestly, he was acting like she'd invited him to this holiday.

“Did I do what?” he asked, the laughter still caught in his voice.

The Doctor gave a tired wave towards the windows, where thick rain drops were pattering against the glass, loud like hailstones.

“The rain.”

“You're asking if I did the rain?”

She looked at him intently and the Master broke into a grin.

“Right. I always did know I'm the better scientist between us but this... Okay. Okay. Let me explain to you, Doctor, how weather works.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she said and he actually looked taken aback, while she turned around, sitting down at the window sill with a dull look outside.

“Oh, come on,” he finally huffed. “It's just a bit of rain.”

“I wanted nothing but some peace and quiet, just a relaxing day at the sea. Now look at it.”

He shook his head and sat down at the window sill, facing her. She refused to meet his eyes, still staring outside, watching the patterns on the glass as the darkness overtook the little valley.

“Rain can be nice and peaceful, too,” he offered.

The Doctor snorted dismissively.

“What would you know about it.”

“I...” the Master replied, hands waving through the air, as if trying to grasp for words rather than speaking them. “I've seen it in movies.”

Against her will, a little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she turned her head towards him finally and found him looking at her with gentle, warm brown eyes.

“What have you seen, then?” she sighed and his grin grew.

“Cuddling, with blankets, before a fire, while the rain makes nice sounds. Oh and hot chocolate. Lots of it. Oh, and let me see that.”

He jumped up and grabbed the picnic basked she had dropped near the door, inspecting its contents carefully.

“See, I can absolutely do something with that. Give me a few minutes.”

She watched him with a little frown, as he rushed towards the kitchen, busily working on... something. She heard him hum a little melody she recognised as Gallifreyan children's songs, while rummaging in cupboards and drawers and after a little while, he returned to the main room to place loads of plates on the table.

There were little appetisers of cheese and grapes draped upon tooth picks, there were crackers and snacks with dip, there were fruits lovingly arranged on plates and in bowls, there were pieces of pre-prepared cake and a bottle of wine with two glasses.

She made to get up, but he waved at her impatiently to sit back down, so she did. He disappeared into the kitchen again, returning with two steaming cups of hot chocolate shortly after, set them down on the table and then grabbed the corners of it to drag it over to her, still sitting on the wide window sill.

Stunned, the Doctor watched him, as the table was as close as he managed. With a grin, the Master disappeared a third time, only to come back a second later with a blanket under his arms.

“Here we go,” he announced, climbing onto the window sill with her, careful as to not knock anything off the table, and draped the blanket over both of them. “If we're gonna do this, we better do this right. No moving, no getting up, just comfortable cuddling by the window.”

She wanted to say anything, anything at all, but found herself slightly speechless. She knew he could have, well, romantic moods, but she had fully expected him to be here to be a pain in her ass, instead of feeling his arms pull her into a light hug, blanket wrapped around her shoulder, sitting so close his beard was tickling her cheek.

“Uhm,” she finally brought out after several attempts of opening her mouth and closing it again. “That... okay.”

He laughed.

“Come on. It's not too bad. Say it's not too bad.”

Instead, she smiled, turning her head off the elaborate preparation on the table to look at him.

“What is up with you today?”

He shrugged.

“You looked sad. It irked me.”

“Why?”

“Cause I didn't...” he threw his hands up and pointed at the rain. “I didn't... make it rain.”

“So?”

“So... If you're gonna be sad.. it's gonna be because of me, okay?”

The Doctor stared at him.

“What?” she finally brought out, sounding exasperated.

“I don't know. I just don't like it. Rain's too common to bring you down. You're the eternal sunshine idiot. It's just wrong. Now eat.”

She picked up one of the cheese thingies he'd made and played with it thoughtfully.

“So what you're saying,” she said after a while, leaning back against his chest comfortably. “Is that only very special efforts should make me sad. Like... yours. Because... you're so very special?”

The Master nodded.

“Yes. Exactly.”

She decided to use his inferior complex against him.

“So what you're really saying is... that you'd like to be special to me.”

“Yes. Wait. What. No.” His voice was stumbling now. “I didn't say that.”

“But you did.” The Doctor stretched her neck to look up at him, her back still against his chest and their faces so close to each other, she could barely make him see her wide smile.

The Master was frowning.

“Just eat your food, it'll shut you up.”

She raised the cheese to his mouth and with another, even deeper frown, the Master complied, opening his mouth and letting her feed him.

“Cheesy,” he muttered and the Doctor snorted into her hot chocolate.

“I've seen people do that in movies, too,” she grinned after a little while and he sighed.

“I bet they did. Movies are like that. Two people cuddle and do sickeningly sweet things and then come out of that hut married or something. Don't get any wrong ideas. I'm not marrying you... again.”

“You don't have to, technically our third divorce never went through because I accidentally dropped the papers in a pit of lava.”

The Master blinked.

“How do you accidentally drop papers in a pit of lava, Doctor?”

“Intentionally,” she replied, not looking up from her cocoa as she stirred it.

She could feel the Master's heavy sigh against her back.

“Were you... I don't know. Planning on telling me we're still married in the past 1700 years? At all?”

“I did now,” she replied, shrugging lightly as she turned her neck back to him, grinning.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath but when she held up the toothpick again to feed him the grape, he took it without hesitation.

“You know what, you were right,” she said after a while. “I don't mind the rain anymore at all.”

The Master gave her a half grin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It's quite nice. The pattering is calming and comfy now.”

“Isn't it just.”

She could hear something in the tone of his voice, something lurking, something familiar.

“What?” she asked. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” the Master shrugged. “Nothing, it's just....”

He innocently took a sip of his wine and she could see his lips twitching as he held back a laugh.

“It's what?” she asked again and he finally set down the glass to look at her.

“It's just... you do have a _time machine_ , you know that, right? You could've just come back any other, sunny day?”

A long, uncomfortable silence spread between them, as the Doctor simply stared at him and the Master stared back.

“Oh,” she finally said and he nodded, just once.

She looked back at the table, the window, then somewhere around the corner, where she had parked the TARDIS, then back at him.

Finally, she shrugged, snuggling herself closer to his body and he held her with a little smirk.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

They sat quietly by each other the entire evening, the Master leaning against the window and the Doctor leaning against him, unwilling to move even a bit out of that position. She was becoming sleepy, letting herself sink into a drowsy nap, when she heard the Master speak again.

“So if I were to send you new divorce papers, let's say... next week...”

“'s good,” she muttered. “I've got some volcano trips left to make.”

The Master kissed her temple, smiling contently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote an entire part about the Master only destroying Gallifrey, so that technically no one was left to officially divorce them, but it ruined the mood so I cut it out LMAO


	23. Surprise Birthday Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 57th birthday, Doctor Who. <3 Let's hope the next anniversary special includes the Master, as he *deserves*.

When Jack had collected her with some vague call for help, she had been worried. He never called her for help, he barely even invited her for tea anymore – Probably because he knew she'd find some way to decline.

So she had hurried to materialise to the coordinates he had given her and stepped out to a beautiful clearing in the middle of UK landscapes, sun shining brightly down on glaringly green grasses and lanterns and balloons fastened to every single branch the huge, beautiful trees offered.

Stunned, the Doctor's mouth fell open, as a bunch of people jumped out of the nearby bushes, shouting “Surprise!”

Though, when the Doctor looked at their faces one by one, each and everyone old friends of hers, she had to admit, she wasn't sure which of them was more surprised.

“I... What?”

Jack stood in the middle of everyone, beaming at her brightly.

“It's your birthday,” Jo – oh God, Jo! - said from somewhere in the crowd. “You haven't forgotten, have you?”

She hadn't. She had made plans. Plans, that mostly involved absolutely ignoring the day, apart from maybe, you know, saving the universe a little harder. To forget extra easy.

It wasn't that she didn't like a good party – She simply hadn't felt like her birth was anything to celebrate, lately. Especially considering that she didn't even know anymore _when_ she was born.

“Uhm...” the Doctor brought out, looking up and down the crowd of faces long gone, knowing some sort of joy was expected of her right now. “How... how did you know?”

“Jack did,” Rose grinned, as she stepped forwards, giving him a light jab to the side with her elbow. “Love the hair, by the way,” she added with a wink.

Right. Rose. That was fine, barely hurt anymore. Seeing all these faces of friends she'd have to leave behind again, all the painful memories, that was totally fine. Not a problem at all.

“Yeah,” the Doctor replied, clearing her hoarse throat just a bit. “Yes. I thought I'd try something new. Uhm. Wow. You guys. Good... good to see you.”

In all honesty – It was. It was good to see them. If only she could forget about all the goodbyes that were to follow...

As if her friends could read her thoughts – and frankly, some of them knew her far too well - , they all moved towards her, one after another, until a long chain of people just stormed at her and within seconds, the Doctor found herself in an inescapable, tight embrace with hundreds of people.

“You know, Professor,” Ace brought out after a while, her cheek tightly squeezed against hers. “It's okay to sometimes just let yourself be happy.”

The Doctor nodded, feeling a surge of tears rise up, and forced herself to a little smile.

“I... I'm still working on that.”

The whole evening was strangely surreal. Here she was, walking from one little group to the next. There was Sarah Jane chatting with Harry Sullivan, Rose and Jo Grant and somehow Clara was in the middle of them, slightly drunk and flirting.  
  
Jack was like her, jumping from crowd to crowd, one second making pretty eyes at Peri, the next pushing Adric away from the alcohol – He must've picked him up sometime before his death and oh, he couldn't know, couldn't know how much it stung. The Doctor could barely look at the boy she had failed so much.

She was going to have to deactivate Jack's Vortex Manipulator at some time. He had gotten far too good at jumping between places and times. It was bad enough that she meddled with time constantly. Well, she and...

The Doctor sighed.

In all the masses of people, the one person who wasn't here... was him. Of course. Jack wouldn't think of inviting him. She didn't want to see him anyway, how could she? Why would she?

The Doctor excused herself from her chat with Ace and Mel and rushed towards Jack as he was currently free, grabbing his arm.

“Hey,” she greeted him, properly for the first time today and he grinned.

“Hey, Doc. How's the party going?”

Painfully.

“It's... it's great. Can I just ask... I mean... How did you know it's my birthday?”

Time travelling was complicated. Time Lords had a whole different concept of time outside of the regular timeline they constantly jumped about in. It _was_ her birthday according to Time Lord time- But there was no way for Jack to actually know that.

He just shrugged.

“I'm really good at research.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, well... fine,” he sighed. “A friend of yours told me.”

There was no friend of hers who'd know, though. No one left alive, except...

“A friend?”

“Yeah, O was his name,” Jack gave a slight, crooked smirk. “Or not, I suppose, but that's what he called himself, anyway.”

Of course.

Of course. This was him taunting her, wasn't it? A jab at her not knowing her actual birthday, at her being so much older than they both knew. A jab at all the friends she'd lost, left behind, was that it?

“Met him a while ago,” Jack went on with a shrug. “MI6 doesn't think much of Torchwood, but he seemed to think differently.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Yeah. He would.”

“He told me I should throw a party. Said he'd do it himself but doesn't have the means. Gave me a whole list of people to invite, too. Though, honestly, I don't think he's as well informed as he thinks he is. Didn't even have Rose on the list – I picked her up from when she was travelling with you, all safe, I think,” he added when he noticed her face.

But the Doctor just laughed quietly.

That jealous little shit.

“Let me guess, no River Song on the list, either?” That explained her absence, at least.

Jack frowned.

“Nah, never heard that name. Someone important?”

“Not when it comes to the...” she cleared her throat. “To O. Where... where is _he_ by the way?”

She looked around the trees, as if she expected the Master to suddenly drop down from the branches and ~~hug~~ attack her.

“He...” Jack hesitated. “He said it'd be better if he didn't come. Said you didn't want to see him.”

Oh.

Huh.

That was... weirdly thoughtful? Maybe a trap? But an odd sort of trap. Even he couldn't possibly thing to win against her and the best team he could possibly give her for this occasion.

So...

She looked around the laughing, chatting people, drinking and messing around and waving at her whenever they caught her eye.

It was just a birthday party, wasn't it? He had genuinely just given her a birthday party.

The Doctor swallowed.

“Can I... Can I borrow your phone, Jack?”

“Sure,” he gave her a grin along with it, holding out his hand readily. “He's a cutie, you know? Doesn't seem to have eyes for anyone but you, thought, believe me, I _tried_.”

The Doctor couldn't help the little grin spreading on her face.

“Well, don't,” she replied while typing in the Master's number, still knowing it by heart. “He's all mine.”

Jack merely raised his eyebrows at her, since, in that moment, she held the phone to her ears and waited, tensely, for the Master to pick up, teeth nervously grazing her lower lip.

“Don't tell me you messed it up,” she heard from the other side of the line after only a moment. “It's really not that hard. I gave you clear instructions.”

The Doctor giggled, quickly taking some steps away from Jack.

“Hey O, your Master is showing.”

There was a short, loaded silence from the other side of the line, then...

“Doctor.”

“Hey there.”

“What...” he cleared his throat. “What do you want?”

She smiled towards the sky, where the sun was slowly fading to an evening sky, shades of red cracking through the leaves.

“Well, I'm here, at my birthday party, very elaborate, painful thing, by the way. And I couldn't help but notice that you forgot to invite someone very important.”

She heard an annoyed grunt from him.

“Really, I can't keep track of all your pets, if I forgot the occasional insignificant girlfriend of yours...”

“Yeah, I don't mean Rose or River, you jealous prick, I meant my best friend.”

“I did write Miss Smith on the list, I'm not sure what he did but that's on...”

The Doctor rolled her eyes.

“ _You_ , Master. You're not here.”

Another, even longer pause, then she heard his voice again, weirdly toneless.

“You don't want me there.”

“You really think I'd call if I didn't?”

“I don't even... I can't even...” he stammered aimlessly. “Listen, just.. just forget it, okay?”

He hung up on her and the Doctor sighed, standing still for a moment, still staring at the phone when Jack returned to her, taking it gently out of her hands again.

“He's not coming, huh?”

She shook her head quietly.

“Gonna tell me who he is? He seems... really special, the way he knows things about you not even I did. Not that I'm offended,” Jack added, sounding lightly offended.

The Doctor forced herself to a smile.

“I never told him any of it,” she finally brought out. “Never told him when my birthday is. He, one day, just showed up at my door, with a stupid gift and a stupid grin, telling me to take his hand and leading me out into the forests, sneaking out on my parents, on everyone, to just spend the day with him. He never did tell me how he found out.”

Jack looked confused.

“So he's... sorry, he's not... human?”

“Time Lord,” she replied dully. “And yes, he's special. An idiot, a dangerous one, but he's... he's my best and oldest friend and he should be here.”

“Sorry,” Jack replied with a frown. “Sorry, Doctor.”

“It's okay.” She tried another smile and this time she managed to even look him in the eyes. “This is... this is great. It's... great. Thank you so much.”

She gave him a hug, God knew he deserved it for what he put together and God knew she needed one and Jack squeezed her tightly for a second.

“He did all of this for you, you know,” he said. “Even if he's not here, it's... a bit like he is, I think? Not sure why he needed to pretend to be anyone else but... hey, wait a minute. Is he...?”

With one last grateful grin, the Doctor quickly fled out of his embrace and to the next best group of people talking – The Brigadier, Turlough and Tegan, feeling Jack's eyes on her, narrowed suspiciously, as she gave him a cheerful wave.

Best she wasn't around when he came to the conclusion he was about to come to.

Best the Master wasn't either, she supposed.

  
It was a nice party. She tried her best, she really did, to forget about all the painful goodbyes and the Master had given her the small mercy of having had Jack pick up every single one of her friends before they'd left her in their regular timelines – None of them expected her to say goodbye. Each of them merely gave her gentle squeezes and hugs, told her how much they liked the new look and were off again, to new adventures and better times.

She waved after each and every one of them, while Jack took it upon himself to all take them back home safely, feeling weirdly content and sad at the same time.

It was alright, she thought. Somehow nicer than she thought it would've been. It reminded her, in a very weird way, that it didn't matter who she'd been before, when she'd really been born. She was very much the person who had made all these friends. She was very much the Doctor and always would be.

  
“Thanks, Jack. So much.”

Saying goodbye to him was the hardest, because he knew, he knew so much more than her other friends. He was aware of how much time had passed, how tired she was, he could see right through her facade, always.

But Jack also knew that sometimes, it was best to just hug her and let her go.

“Take care, Doctor,” he smiled sadly. “Don't get wrapped up in...” He made an indistinct gesture with his hands and the Doctor grinned, thinking she knew what he meant, anyway.

“Too late for that,” she grinned. “He has me very much wrapped up.”

  
Walking to her TARDIS alone was more difficult than it had ever been tonight, with her soul still singing from all the hugs, all the nice, familiar faces and voices, all the chatter and the love.

When she opened her doors, however, she found she wasn't alone anymore after all.

“Oh,” she greeted.... the Master. “Uhm. Hi.”

All ten of them greeted her back, waving and grinning and smirking and looking... well, utterly smug and a little nervous. It was almost cute. Each of them had brought a bottle of Gallifreyan wine and flowers and delicacies and with a shake of her head, the Doctor let herself be pulled in.

Missy was there, flirting with her vigorously, complementing the “change of style”.

So many, so young Masters, from a time when it all had still been so easy, sitting comfortably on her couches, chatting amiably about past times and failed plots she had crashed.

Even that bloody round face was here, pretending to be bored, but she could see the little wrapped up box in his coat pockets and when he caught her looking at it, he pulled it out and threw it her way with a roll of his eyes.

The only one missing, again, was... well... _him_.

“Boys,” she said, quickly catching a jab with Missy's umbrella. “Sorry. Masters,” she corrected herself with a little laugh. “I... I was happy to see all of you but it's late and...”

“Yes, yes, we understand,” the Master with the heavy, American accent said. “We'll be on our way. Got things to do, worlds to destroy.”

They each gave her a kiss as a goodbye, some gentle, some firm, some on the cheek, Missy's lasting for about half a decade, as they left. She was a bit weak in the knees, as she said goodbye to all of them, dazedly waving them and deciding that she definitely drank enough for today.

But there was one more thing left to do before bedtime.

  
She'd return poor Jack's phone later, of course (with the Master's phone number deleted – one could not be too careful), but right now it was the perfect tool to find her Master. She traced back the call with impatient fingers drumming against the surface of her console and when her TARDIS finally spit out the coordinates, she was flying through the room, punching them in and pulling levers to leave within seconds.

There were still some hours of her birthday left and she intended to use them well.

  
“You gotta be kidding me,” he commented, dryly, as she stepped out of her TARDIS and directly into his bedroom.

He was sitting on his bed, a half-finished bottle of whiskey next to him on the night stand and a book in his lap.

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“You!” she pointed at him, accusatory. “You! Were not on my party! Abandoned me at my birthday! That is incredibly rude, sir!”

The Master put his book aside with a sigh.

“Great. You're drunk.”

“Course I'm drunk!” she called out. “I only love you when I'm drunk. Now will you celebrate my birthday with me like a good friend? It's my wish.”  
  
“I already gave you a huge party, actually,” the Master replied calmly. “Wishing for even more after someone did something nice for you? Bit greedy.”

She ignored him, letting herself fall onto the bed next to him, facing him, legs crossed underneath her.

“I wanted you to be there,” she brought out. “It's not the same without you.”

“From the lipstick on your face, I think it's safe to assume that I was there,” the Master replied with a crooked smirk.

The Doctor raised a hand and rubbed at her cheek.

“Not you you. Not this you.”

“Does it make a difference.”

His brown eyes could go so wide, look so desperate for affection, she wondered if he even knew, if he was doing it on purpose, maybe. Either way, she wanted nothing to give them everything she could.

“It does,” she replied with a concentrated little frown, fighting against the alcohol fogging her brain. “Because... because you've put me through hell and back. And you were... there. You know everything I know. Seen the things I've seen. You're my best friend and my worst enemy and right now, you're the only one who _understands_.”

She held out her hand to him, not sure where to go and after a moment of hesitation, the Master took it. His was warm and big around hers.

“I wanted to be there,” he promised, hand closing around hers, thumb stroking over the back of her hand slowly. “I didn't think I should be, though.”

“Always,” she whispered. “You're part of my history and you're part of everything I am now. No matter what we find out, no matter where I come from. No matter what you do. I'll always want you to there.”

His shoulders sank and she could visibly see it, see something heavy, painful, fall off them, as if she had lifted a curse with her words.

He pulled her in, kissed her hard and to the Doctor's horror, she felt salt on her lips, realised he was crying. She wrapped both arms around his shoulders, pulled him closer, held him tight and he silently wept against her, until he was all cried out.

They sat quietly for the rest of her birthday, arm in arm, wrapped up in each other, on the Master's bed, not saying a single word.

It was the best birthday she had had in a very long time, the best birthday since he'd shown up at her door, holding out his hand and told her to run.


	24. Cops and Robbers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit lost about what to do with this prompt... Cops and Robbers, is, I *think* the translation of very elaborate outdoors game we played as children back in my days, so, in conclusion: This is nothing like that and I wrote in a little video game-eque sneak sequence instead. That'll have to do on the prompt fill, because the rest of it has absolutely nothing to do with it. Lol. At least I could finally write down an idea I had stuck in my head for aaaaages! Enjoy.

Cold and damp.

The Doctor, having a lot of time on her hands, while she waded through the cave, wondered why heists always looked like fun on TV, but were, without exception, always cold and damp when she planned one.

Water was seeping into her boots and with a low grumble, she ignored the feeling of her socks soaking through, stomping deeper into the tunnel system of the cave beneath the palace.

“You're the only one who can stop this catastrophe, Doctor,” she mumbled under her breath. “We need you, Doctor, please, please help us – How come people always know what to say to get me to...”

She heard steps from somewhere left from her, shutting her up immediately as she stood frozen against the hard stone wall, trying not to breathe.

She knew it couldn't take long, of course, until someone found the knocked out security guard and realised she'd broken in. Authorities were probably already in the caves, considering how long she'd been stuck down here, trying to find the right way through the dozens of tunnels and junctions.

The steps seemed to quieten down. Whoever was looking for her, was walking into the opposite direction. She heard a low voice grumble something, then the sound of the steps faded. She waited until she was absolutely sure that she wouldn't be heard again, then stopped moving again, into the opposite direction, bringing as much space as possible between her and her pursuer, just hoping it'd lead her to her goal regardless.

Her goal, of course, was a bit delicate, considering it had the power to throw an entire planet into oblivion. A little, tiny, world destroyer, currently in the hands of a power-crazed Empress who had crowned herself after the rightfully King's death.

With a sigh, the Doctor took a turn to the left at the next juncture, wildly guessing.

It ticked all the boxes, she couldn't help but notice. She would've helped even if they hadn't asked, would've unmistakably found herself meddling, sooner or later.

More steps from behind her. Hurrying, the Doctor ran around the corner, pressing herself to the wall again. The water splashed around her feet, but she hoped that in this constantly dripping caves, maybe they didn't think much of it.

“Have you seen anyone?” one of the men asked.

“I thought I did... this way...”

The steps consistently came closer.

“Over there!” one of them called.

In the tunnel next to the Doctor, two guards ran past her, equipped with torches and rubber boots, not paying her any mind.

Confused and with her hearts racing, the Doctor pushed herself off the wall and stared after them.

Who they were chasing, she wasn't sure, all she knew was that she needed to hurry.

As she continued to wade through the tunnels parallel to the ones the guards were running through, she could hear voices, could hear someone shout not to let him get away and then, with a flash, utter silence.

At the next junction, she imagined she could gentle lights in the distance going right but she knew she had to take a look at was going on.

With heavy hearts, the Doctor walked left, holding out her screwdriver like a gun, trying to see what lay ahead and what had silenced the guards so effectively.

She didn't come very far, though. After a few steps, she could see someone flash past her, grab her and pull back into her original tunnel. A hand pressed over her mouth, pressed her against the wall and she tried to call something, tried to breathe, tried to kick out, before she realised who was holding her.

The Master caught her eyes, signalled with his free hand to be quiet, then slowly let his hands sink from her mouth.

The Doctor scrambled backwards, trying to get some space between them, but the Master simply stood pressed against her, waiting quietly. There was the shine of torches going past them, steps of at least three or four people, heading towards the light the Doctor had seen in the distance, as they hid in the shadows.

“What the hell are you doing here?” both of them hissed at the other in the exact same moment, the second they heard a door fall shut behind the guards.

“Me?” they both said in perfect unison. “What about you?”

The Doctor breathed heavily and she could see the Master's lips twitch, as if he was holding back a laugh for a second.

“Why am I even asking,” she finally brought out. “You know about the magnitude-detonator, don't you?”

The Master grinned, all teeth, still standing far too close to her.

“There's something with the power to destroy planets and you assume I don't know? You almost ruined it all for me with your elephant trampling.”

“Excuse me?” the Doctor brought out, sounding offended. “You're the one who almost got me caught!”

“And let me guess,” he continued, as if he hadn't heard her. “You're here to destroy the detonator safely and return the power to the civilians.”

“Well, obviously.” The Doctor stemmed a hand into her hip. “I can't have some insane lady in possession of a deadly weapon, now, can I?”

“Why don't you go home?” the Master said with yet another brilliant grin. “I'll take care of it. I promise you, when I'm done, she won't be in possession of anything anymore.”

She snorted.

“The only worse thing than having someone in control of that thing who doesn't know what they're doing is _you_ being in control of it. No thanks. I think I'll take care of it myself, thank you very much.”

“I definitely would know _just_ what to do with it,” he promised, eyes gleaming deviously.

“That's what I'm worried about,” she sighed. “I don't suppose I can bring you to leave?”

“Nope.”

They exchanged a glance and the Doctor knew she had to think fast.

With a push, she jumped off the wall and straight against the Master. Surprised, he tried to take a jump back, clearly not having her expected to attack, but she grabbed his hair and pulled him back against her, kissing him hard. With a surprised grunt, he stood still for a few seconds, then pushed her back against the wall, hands on her and the kiss deepening.

His lips were hot on her and his body even hotter, the warmth a welcome change from the damp and cold of the caves and for a second, she forgot all about the detonator, then she regretfully pulled herself together, rubbed her aching crotch one last time against his erection, then shoved him to the ground as hard as she could.

Shocked, the Master sat in the dirty water, soaked and struggling to get up, while she was running through the tunnel, towards the entrance to the palace.

“You bloody...” she heard him call behind her, before she slammed the door shut and sealed it with her sonic screwdriver. It wouldn't stop him for long, but at least she had a head start, now.

If only she'd felt a little less dazed. And her lips didn't feel so very well kissed. And her chin wasn't still remembering the way the stubble of his beard had pressed against it.

Bloody, treacherous body.

She took the next-best door, knowing she was playing a dangerous game of guessing now, and followed the corridor to a set of stairs.

Up, she thought. Up's probably good.

She crashed through three further doors, before running into the Master again, who had just ran out of a second door leading into the corridor. They stared at each other for a second, his eyes narrowed if offence, then both started running again, scrambling through the corridor, his arms around her waist to pull her back when she got ahead, while she pulled at his coat sleeves to return the favour.

Finally, they both very much stumbled into the weaponry, where they were greeted by two guards, both raising guns at them and an empress with quite the stony expression on her face.

“So this is what the rebels sent to stop me?” she asked dismissively. “A bunch of idiots squabbling like little children?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said, as she got up to her feet again, in the exact same moment the Master said “No”.

The empress raised a – carefully manicured – eyebrow.

“Pathetic.”

“You're pathetic,” the Master shot back, face contorted in anger. “What even is that dress? Zeptor 5 fashion? Who even wears that anymore?”

The Doctor, immediately confused, turned her head to face him. “You're going for her fashion sense? Really?”

“We villains care about style, okay?” he replied. “You wouldn't understand.”

“You're right,” she gave back in biting, mocking tone. “Here I was. Focused on the planet destroying device of doom. My bad.”

The Master licked his lip and turned back to the empress with his widest, charming grin – The same grin O had given her so many times.

“My lady,” he announced, his arms widened. “Let's work together on this. You want this planet buried in its own ashes – I agree. I assure you, I've not come here to stop you. Nearly to get a piece of your power and...”

She took a step away from him, watching him with a disgusted look on her face.

“You stink of sewers,” she commented. “And it's not half as charming as you think it is.”

He growled.

“Well, if you won't give it to me, then I'll just have to...”

The clicking of the guns, now both pointing at him, was loud and resounding in the chamber and the Master froze, hands rising even as he stood with his back to the guards.

“We can talk about everything.”

The Doctor, realising no one was paying her any attention, sneaked around the guards towards the detonator, sitting on a platform in the middle of the room, behind glass - quietly, almost innocently.

The Master saw her from the corners of his eyes when she had almost reached it.

“What about her, you gotta stop her!”

“Oh, I fully intent to.”

The empress pressed a button on something she had on her arm and all of a sudden, the Doctor could feel the floor tremble under her feet.

“What... what have you done?” the Master asked, cautiously, eyes pinned on the podium with the detonator on it, which had started shaking along with the Doctor.

The empress aggressively poked a few more buttons.

“That wasn't supposed to happen. There's a trapdoor mechanism, throwing people into a pit who come too close... but...”

“The whole floor is falling apart!” the Master shouted. “That's not a bloody trapdoor!”

“I didn't make it, okay?” she screamed back, her cool demeanour flickering. “The old king programmed it, it must've been a trap!”

The Doctor felt the floor underneath her feet crumbling. With a panicked jump, she tried to reach safe flooring and just as her feet left the ground, she could see it fall into nothing beneath her – A whole, dark pit leading to nowhere had opened up beneath her and she could just grab the edge of the abyss, cling to the floor with all her might, trying to pull herself upright. The guards were screaming and running now and the empress followed them.

The palace, the Doctor realised, was still shaking. The whole palace was threatening to get swallowed. She turned around, watching the podium with the detonator shift as the ground beneath it started to crumble as well.

One last mechanism to protect his planet even in death, the Doctor realised. And she was going to get swallowed up by it, too.

She watched the Master slither towards the edge of the hole, eyes pinned on the detonator. The walls were shaking now, occasional pieces of the walls loosening and raining down on them.

“You're gonna get yourself killed,” she shouted over the noise. “Just give up on it and run!”

His eyes flickered down to her, where she was hanging, trying her best to pull herself to save grounds, but whenever she applied any pressure, she felt more pieces of the edge just crumble and lose stability.

The Master's eyes flickered back to the detonator, now hanging on the last string saving it from the abyss.

Back to the Doctor.

With something that sounded like a growl of frustration, he grabbed her hand with both of his and started pulling. He fell down when she finally was back on safe ground, but barely paid any attention, eyes going back to the detonator just as it was falling into oblivion.

“Forget about it,” she pleaded, pulling at his arm to pull him upright again. “Come on, we gotta get out of here.”

It took him one last, lingering second as he looked back into the abyss, then he was on his feet and they were running together. Somewhere along the way, one of them had reached for the other's hand – She wasn't sure who, anymore – and together they made it through the falling debris of the palace and into freedom, where the rebels were already collected in celebration.

The Master let himself fall onto the grass, coughing hard and the Doctor followed shortly after, laying down on her back with an exhausted, shaky laugh, as she looked up at the sky above her.

For a few seconds, they just took it all in – the rebels celebrating and cheering, the palace falling apart, the empress being overrun and arrested by her own people as soon as she made it out of the ruins of the palace.

None of them said a word.

After a while, she sat up, watching the Master from the side, as he sat, shrunken together, shoulders slumped and sullen glare still pinned to what was left of the palace.

She touched his shoulder gently.

“Thank you.”

His eyes flicked over to her.

“You let it fall to help me.”

His lips trembled as he opened them, trying to say something, then let them fall shut again with a tired, resigned sulk.

“You just had to get be in the middle of all of this, didn't you?” he finally grunted and she grinned, kissing his cheek gently.

“You know me. Crossing your plans is what I do. One way or another.”

“You're a pain in the ass,” he confirmed with a sulk still in his voice, but she saw his lips tugging up to a little smile.

“Yeah, but I'm the pain in your ass you want more than a deadly, planet devouring detonator,” she pointed out.

The Master sighed heavily.

“One nice thing,” he said. “I do one nice thing for you and you have to rub it in, so I won't ever do it again?”

“I don't think there's much danger of that.”

She wrapped his arms around him, pointing at the rebels.

“Look at them, though. You saved them, too.”

“I did no such thing.” He sounded offended, but didn't move out of her arms nonetheless.

“You did a little bit,” she grinned. “It's okay, though. If this was Gallifrey, we would've been them.”

They would've. They were, once upon a time, as young adults, when they had fought against the ever-same rules and restrictions, side by side, before it had all gone downhill.

“Sometimes it's not too bad, being on the right side, you know?”

She let her fingers run through his beard softly, still remembering the light scratch on her chin as they had kissed. What were the chances his mood was good enough to...

“Oh, shut up and kiss me,” he whined. “The only reason I saved you in the first place was in hopes that you'd be _very_ grateful later.”

She grinned.

“Good gamble.”


	25. "I thought I'd lost you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valc0 and Ineternity (probably) when they made this prompt list: FLUFF! FLUFF GOOD  
> Me: So... Angst?  
> Them: n-no... fluff...  
> Me: Yes. Angst. That's what I said.  
> Them: At least make it hurt & comfort?  
> Me: Yes. Hurt. I can do that.  
> Them: AND COMFORT.  
> Me: Do I have to?
> 
> Anyway, this is a soft AU of what would've happened if the Doctor had found about Gallifrey before she'd found out about the Master being O. Enjoy. Or uhm. Not.

The thing with home was that you never quite missed it until it was gone.

Took it for granted, maybe, a little bit.

She hadn't visited home in a very long time, not since home had trapped her in a nightmare world of her own imagination for million of years.

Now, as she was standing in the still warm, smoking ruins of home, she thought that maybe, she should've.

“No,” she whispered because she wasn't sure what else to say. “Why.”

The better question, most likely, was _who_? If it wasn't her – and she was fairly sure that this time, it really, probably wasn't – then who could've done this level of destruction. Daleks, again? Unlikely. This was too thorough, to systematic to have been a war.

And so all the Doctor knew was that she hadn't been here – Hadn't been here to defend her planet, hadn't been able to stop it from falling yet again.

“I'm sorry,” she said and felt ashes on her tongue, in her throat, coughing, suffocating on it.

She closed the door, shut it behind her, back against the wood. No breath of clean air could bring any kind of relief, no sound of her TARDIS could get through the deafening silence.

She reached out, with her mind, tried to find someone, anyone, hiding in the corners of the galaxy, but the silence she got back was too final, to familiar, for her to continue. She'd been here before. Had tried so desperately to find anyone, anyone again, to fool herself now.

They were all gone.

She was on her own.

Again.

The Doctor was running in circles through her console room, steps getting more frantic with every single loop she did. She needed to think, no, no, absolutely couldn't think. Needed to find out what did this, how it happened, but Gods, no, she couldn't. She'd go mad, she'd break, she couldn't do this again, none of it.

It wasn't fair.

Why did she care? They never cared about her.

But they were home, they had been home, they had been there before anyone else, _he_ had been...

The Doctor stopped in her tracks, feeling cold grasp for her hearts, felt hot shame that the thought hadn't occurred to her sooner and somehow it all mixed into one overwhelming wave of terror.

“Master.”

More circles, more pacing, more panic. Would they have gone to Gallifrey? After the colony ship, after abandoning her. Maybe. They had a TARDIS to fix, probably. A TARDIS and, most likely, a paradox.

She'd feel her, surely, if the Master was still alive?

She tried to reach out again, tried to block everything out, tried not to get drowned by the silence as she looked for the Master. She'd done this before, after the war, times after times and times. Even when she had known the Master had died inside her TARDIS before the War had even started, she'd sat down in the deepest basements and tried to find whichever traces he had left.

Nothing.

Nothing then, nothing now, just silence, making her shudder.

She closed her mind again, feeling something rising she knew she couldn't fight any longer. Her shoulders trembling, her eyes watering, the Doctor let herself fall to the floor in the middle of the TARDIS, weeping quietly.

She went to the only place she could think of, the only person she could bear right now. Just imagining Yaz, Graham and Ryan scramble to help her, their wide eyes, their open worry, their questions... she couldn't handle it. But she knew, she just knew, if she went to _him_ , he would understand.

Somehow, he always did.

The Doctor hadn't told O that she was coming, hadn't called, hadn't texted in ages, yet here she was, materialising straight into his living room and she barely had any energy left to care how rude that might be.

Neither did he, though, because he greeted her with a wide grin, wide arms and a warmth she could almost feel through the cold that had started to envelop her.

Almost.

“Doctor, what a sur...-” He stopped dead as he saw the state of her, the grin falling off his face. “Doctor?”

She stumbled out of the ship, barely standing straight anymore, face pale, eyes swollen and her voice simply didn't carry the words she was trying to say.

“O...” was as far as she got and then he was beside her, catching her as she stumbled, hands immediately brushing back some sticky, tear-soaked strands of hair from her face, gentle fingers brushing her cheek, strong arms holding her and it was all she could let anyone give her right now.

“What's wrong.” O had rarely sounded so serious, so determined and confident as he did now. “Doctor, what happened?”

She let her trembling arms close around him, buried her face at his chest, somehow found herself sobbing again at his affection.

“My... my home,” she brought out, voice hoarse from all the crying. “It's...”

She couldn't bring herself to say it. She had never been able to and she wasn't going to start now the full force of it had hit her for a second time.

She felt O stiffen in her arms.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath and that was just it, wasn't it. She didn't even have to say it and he _understood_. “Doctor, I'm sorry.”

He led her through the room to the sofa and gently helped her to sit down. She sat trembling on the couch, feeling completely broken down, her arms clinging to him like he was a life boat in the ocean and he held her, rubbed her back gently, lips closing and opening several times as he searched for words.

As if any of them could ever make it alright again.

“I'm so sorry, Doctor.”

His voice was so weak, so quiet and she looked up through veiled eyes to his face, contorted in pain.

“'s not your fault,” she reassured him and O gulped visibly. “Everyone... I can't... I can't reach anyone.. they're all... I don't even know what happened. They're all.. I can't reach _her_.”

Her words were a jumbled mess, she knew there was no way he'd ever make sense of them but it was alright, for now, to just have someone listen to them, to just be able to say them and not feel the harrowing pit of being alone right now.

“Her?” O asked gently.

“M... My friend. She was... She's... Gods, she can't be dead. She can't be. After everything, that can't be...”

The Doctor was cold again. She snuggled deeper into O's embrace, wishing everything would just stop except for him, everything would fade if she just got lost in him, but he seemed distracted, his warm, brown eyes looking into the distance, as his hands rubbed circles onto her back almost mechanically.

“I'm sure she's... fine,” he tried, his voice breaking. Sweet, kind O. He was trying his best.

“No. I can't... feel her. Normally, I'd be able to reach her. We're a telepathic species.”

She sat up, wrapping her arms around herself, shuddering and O sighed, pulling her loosely against his chest again. She let her head fall onto it sideways, staring into the distance.

“Millions of things I should've said to her,” she muttered. “So many things I didn't say. Instead all I did... was driving her away.”

“I'm sure that's not true.” He was feeling so bad for her, she could tell. His eyes were wide open, almost pleading to her now.

“She was my best friend. You know? Always. I couldn't even tell her that. That she wouldn't have to _try_ , to... to... to get me back, she _was_ my friend. Dangerous, stupid friend you couldn't bring to any party because all your other friends hated her but...”

She shook her head, something caught between a sob and a laugh leaving her throat and turning into a scream.

“Doctor...”

“I should've just told her. Why am I so bloody stupid.”

“Tell her now.”

“I can't, aren't you listening?” she shouted, jumping off the sofa. It wasn't fair, she wasn't fair, O was trying nothing but to be there for her but she just couldn't, couldn't take it right now – She didn't deserve him. Gods, she was a horrible friend.

“Try again,” he whispered. “Try reaching out again, maybe... maybe she... uhm... was shielding her mind from.. any kind of contact. That's a thing, right?”

Tiredly, the Doctor let herself fall back onto the spot next to him, arms still tightly wrapped around herself.

“It is...” she said slowly. “But... I can't... you don't know how often I tried, back when... when my planet was destroyed the first time. Every night I lay awake, reaching out, hoping for exactly that and it was... you don't know what it's like, O. For a telepathic call to be unanswered, for your mind to reach out and be so utterly alone out there, it's... it's more than I can take.”

O had closed his eyes, face contorted into a grimace. He was suffering so much for her, poor empathetic soul.

When he opened them again, something in his eyes had hardened and he rested his forehead against hers.

“One last time,” he whispered. “Try one last time. For me. I'll be here. I promise I'll be here.”

Letting out a shaky breath, the Doctor nodded. She kept her eyes fixed on his, on the strength and warmth he seemed to radiate and let her mind wander, reach out one more time.

It didn't have to go very far.

“I... what...”

There were tears in... O's eyes.

“I told you,” he whispered. “I'm sorry.”

“You're... but you're...”

The Doctor withdrew her mind, withdrew herself, away from his face, his arms, the sofa. Scrambling backwards, falling down and keeping on crawling, until she hit the wall furthest away.

“I did it,” he explained, voice strained, as if he forced himself to say the words, just like he forced himself to look into her eyes. “I did it and I ran and I hid and I couldn't... couldn't tell you. Couldn't face you.” He bit his lower lips, just for a moment, eyes closing, before he spoke again. “Couldn't be without you, either.”

“Why,” she asked after a moment of trying to process... everything. “Why did you do it?”

He stared at her, mouth half open, eyes pleading, trying to make her understand something he wasn't even able to tell her and she recognised too much of the pain trapped in them, could see how Gallifrey's destruction haunted him just like it had her.

“I can't... Doctor, if you've ever trusted me... Trust me when I tell you it's best I don't tell you.”

She stared up at him, from the floor, breathing heavily, then swallowed hard.

“Okay.”

O – no, the Master – frowned.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

She got back up and his eyes widened as they followed her up, but she merely walked back to him, sitting down and wrapping her arms around him like she had before.

After a few moments of him just sitting there, stunned, frozen, he pulled her closer to him again, hand on her back, mind cautiously brushing hers and she let him in, breathing still shakily, but calming. Calming, as her brain finally processed what she had thought impossible mere minutes ago.

She wasn't alone, he was here, he was here, he was... horrible, frankly, but that's how she knew him and he was here.

Her oldest friend, her constant weakness, holding her.

“I can hear you, you know.”

She gave him a sad smile that never reached her eyes.

“Good.”

“I'm sorry,” he said again and she realised, now, now that she knew who he was, fully knew, what those words meant for him. He was the Master and the Master was never sorry. “I never meant for you to... I thought you wouldn't find out in ages. I thought I might be there. Thought I might tell you.”

“I'll want to know eventually,” she muttered, exhaustion crashing down on her now that the sobbing had stopped. “Why you did it. You can tell me then.”

He brushed over her hair gently, so gentle, was that who he was this time around? Gentle?

 _Hardly_ , she heard him in her mind. _Let's not forget what I did_.

Right.

“I don't care right now,” she muttered out loud. “Can't care right now. You're here, you're alive.”

They sat in silence for a while and she would've almost missed it, the question rising up in his mind, if she hadn't dived in a little too deep, if she hadn't been so relieved to just feel him that she'd poured her entire being into his mind – He'd hidden it so well, the little question, the little bit of doubt.

_And is that a good thing?_

She sat up, on her knees, pulling his face between her hands and kissed him, just once, very short, looking into his eyes seriously.

“I thought I'd lost you,” she brought out. “And hell, I can lose all of Gallifrey, but I can't, not ever, lose you again.”


	26. Slow Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... I know I say this everytime but you know, this might be my new favourite one

“ _My dear Doctor,_

_I would like to formally invite you to my ball, this coming weekend. After you have saved my people so gracefully, I would be honoured to properly make your acquaintance. Please, save me a dance. I shall await you joyfully -_

_King of Julevia_.”

The Doctor read over that note again and again, feeling a knot build in her stomach. A mix of excitement and nervousness, fighting to be heard.

She sighed.

The King of Julevia. A myth, or so she had thought. When she had visited the planet, expecting to find a fairytale, she had found herself on the dark side of a horror movie instead. She had fought with a group of civilians to free the King – the actual King! - from the hands of a vulture species that had invaded the planet, and after a lot of struggling, they had won.

Even then, however, no one had laid eyes on the King. As it was customary, as all the tales of Julevia told, the King's identity would forever be in the shadows, would be a secret from even their own people, for as long as no one worthy enough to be his partner appeared.

It had been exciting for her, following this myth. Looking into the whirl of shadows and darkness around the King's head when she had finally freed him. Seen the people scramble and curtsey and avert their glances, as if they weren't curious.

She sure had been.

He was a good king, that much she had understood. Ruled his people benevolent and fair. They lived well, they celebrated even better.

Now this invite... She wasn't sure what to make of it. One morning, she had just found it lying on her console, in a nice envelope with a little bow, addressed to her specifically.

It wasn't that she didn't want to meet him, she did, of course she did. She was flattered, actually, that he would want to dance with her – The legend of tales, told on hundreds of different planets, to be dancing in her arms.

But, as they had the first ten times already, the Doctor's eyes got hung up on him talking about “properly” meeting her. Her lips silently formed the words as she read them, repeatedly.

“My king...” she whispered. “However will I be able to tell you that I will not, cannot be your partner...”

She had considered not going, but it wasn't a real option, was it? If she was going to break a King's heart, if she was going to tell the man waiting his whole life to be seen by someone that she wasn't going to be the one to do it, Gods, she was going to have to tell him with words and kindness, not by simply not appearing.

And so here she stood, in the middle of her TARDIS, darkness of the cosmos shining through the windows, the lights of her console room diving everything in ghostly, pale lights, clinging to the card in her hands, and trying to find out how to dance.

It wasn't that she'd never danced before – She had done so in a few bodies. But this one felt so different. For the first time, she felt the need to actually be graceful rather than herself. Her legs were too short, shorter than she was used to, her hands constantly wanted to go to the wrong positions, were urging her to lead and she felt far, _far_ from delicate, she felt like an elephant in her boots and even worse at the thought of changing into _those_.

She glanced towards the high-heeled, dark blue shoes she had dropped at the edge of the console. She wasn't sure which of her friends had left them here – Might have been Tegan, actually, but they fit, she had checked several times and even used Earth search machines to make sure. They were _supposed_ to feel this wrong.

Crazy world, Earth.

And so she just kept on practising. Someone had once told her that practising was the only way to true mastery. Had it been Da Vinci? Shakespeare? Dickens? Oh, it might have been the Master, now that she thought about it. He always loved a terrible pun.

Not that practising had ever brought him anywhere near mastery, but she wouldn't tell him that.

It always made him awfully grumpy.

“Huh.” The Doctor let out a light huff, looking around the room. “Maybe if I...”

She closed her eyes, tried not to focus on how silly she felt and raised her arms, imagining the Master in front of her inner eye, taking her hand, laying one on her waist, walking little circles with her. She imagined warm eyes looking down on her, as he laughed, laughed like he had when they were children and it worked, it worked so much better than dancing for herself, all of a sudden she felt free, felt light and...

... bumped into the console, grabbing at the first thing she could reach, pulled the shoes down with her to the floor and poked her own eye.

From somewhere behind her, she suddenly heard someone clapping.

“Amazing performance, love.”

With only one eye open, the Doctor turned her head while lifting herself off the floor, rubbing the other.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to seem like someone who had just been caught fantasising about a person so much, they had appeared in the room with her.

“Heard you think of me,” the Master grinned. “Couldn't miss this, now, could I?”

Oh dear, oh no. That was awkward. That was gonna do that thing with his ego again, where he walked around all inflated like a peacock for weeks, before she took him down a notch again.

“I wasn't thinking of you at all,” she tried, but he just gave her a look that clearly stated he wasn't even going to engage in her pathetic denials.

Probably fair.

“So, dancing with yourself not satisfying enough?”

She sighed.

“I got... invited,” she started, carefully watching him as he strode through her control room, fingers running over her console, and she just knew she had to keep an eye on him – He seemed to be peaceful enough right now, but he could strike anytime. Shake some ridiculous plan out of his coat sleeve and bombard her with it.

She knew because she very much was the same.

He came to stop in front of the invitation card, reading it with an eyebrow pulled up.

“Julevia?” he finally asked. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope. Been there. Saved some people and the king. Turns out he,'s uhm, real.”

The Master turned around, eyes glittering and she wasn't sure if it was rage, deviousness or excitement – It seemed to be the usual mix of all of it, but with something darker underneath. Something cold.

“And, did you see him?”

“Well, no,” she replied, quietly. “It was like there was something around his head. Like he was veiled in darkness. Except he wasn't. But I couldn't... couldn't look through it, couldn't...”

“Like a perception filter?”

“Something like that. Something stronger, I think. But definitely that area.”

“Hmmm...”

The Master lowered his head again, looking down onto the card one more time. She could see his lips move along the lines like her own had.

“Seems he wants to change that.”

“I...”

The Doctor fell silent again. So he'd come to the same conclusion.

The Master's eyes flickered upwards again, boring into hers and she found herself swallowing hard.

“So, this is it, then, Doctor? All these adventures to end up a fairytale King's wife?”

She let out a half-hearted snort.

“Please. I'll... tell him I can't... can't be his partner. Of course. Of course I can't.”

The smile on the Master's face was freezing cold.

“Then what are you practising dancing for?”

“Just, you know,” the Doctor laughed nervously, waving a hand around, hoping he wouldn't notice that she had no answer. “So I don't embarrass him... even more than I already... you know?”

The Master watched her for a minute silently, then broke out into quiet chuckling, head bowing down and shaking lightly.

“Well, you've been getting it all wrong,” he finally said, when he lifted his head again. “Dancing is an art about so much more than just knowing the right steps. If you've got a good leader, they're actually irrelevant. You just got to...” He stepped closer, unbearably closer, his hand closing around hers, thumb softly stroking the back of her hand, just once, twice, then he laid his other hand around her waist, pulling her close, muttering against her lips. “... just gotta let yourself follow the movements.”

The Doctor felt her mouth dry as she let him lead her, trying her best to keep up with him, trying not to get lost in his eyes, so close to hers, so intense as they bored into hers. His hands were warm on her, his body hard beside hers and she resisted the urge to just let herself fall into him.

“All you've gotta do,” he said again, “is to follow your partner, giving him the feeling you'd follow anywhere. Hold his eyes. Let him feel you – Without ever letting him feel you. Your breath against his face, eye-lashes to eye-lashes, make him get completely lost in you.”

The Doctor blinked, mouth falling open and she wondered, if she just leaned in a little, if he would let her kiss him...

“Bit like this, really,” he added, breaking the spell with a wide, crazed grin, before whirling her away from him, catching her off guard. The Doctor felt herself fly against the console, panting hard.

“And you're telling me this... why?” she finally brought out between breaths and the Master huffed.

“To give you something to remember me by,” he finally stated, his eyes hardening again. “Just in case you feel like eloping with that mysterious King of yours, after all.”

“I won't...” she started, but he wasn't listening to her.

“Everyone knows the things you'd do to solve a good riddle, after all.”

With a swift whirl, he had vanished, leaving nothing but the faint smell of smouldering jealousy in his wake.

It still clung to her, that feeling of _him_ , all over her, even as she set her – slightly wobbly – feet onto the rich grasses of Julevia. If his goal had been to be stuck in her mind, to pull her back to the ground like chains around her body, he'd certainly reached his goal.

It was a beautiful night. She'd landed not far off from the ball, could hear the music in the dark night air and the lanterns were lighting up the entire path, fastened in the branches of trees, around bushes and signs, all connected by a string.

She followed the path laid out for her, feeling excitement rise as the music grew louder. She heard voices now, all happy, all chattering, heard glasses cling and feet rush over the rustling grasses.

The sight of the ball was very much a fairytale. Lanterns, everywhere, tables and chairs set up under free sky and people dancing in the middle, dresses whirling, laughter filling the air. Between the songs, she could hear night insects and birds break the silence. Everything was so alive, so beautiful, so magical.

And she was in the middle of it all, in a blue-black dress she had found in the depth of the wardrobe and felt weirdly wrong in, like a very odd part of it. People waved at her, people she recognised and she waved back, relieved to have found friendly faces, but even people she hadn't seen were greeting her, smiling at her between dances and drinks and the Doctor took a deep breath.

If she concentrated enough, the Master's breath still hung against her lips, like the ghostly reminder not to feel too welcome.

She didn't want to. It was beautiful and wonderful and so, so easy to get caught up in. Every little child dreamed of being a fairytale princess one day and she, in her hearts, had always stayed a little child.

But she had her own, dark story to finish, a nightmare prince to return to, the knight who'd turned into the dragon,wanting to be the king, that she simply couldn't, wouldn't abandon.

“Doctor.”

His voice was loud and resonating and contorted. There were shadows wavering around his head again, not really there but there for her and for everyone trying to look at him.

“My... my lord.”

She tried to curtsey and almost fell to the floor as her feet bent to the side. Through the oceans surrounding his head, she could feel him be amused rather than see it, and he stretched out a hand to help her get back to her feet.

She took it with a swallow, grateful for the support as she got her feet back on the ground.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I usually don't wear these sort of shoes.”

“Then why are you wearing them now?”

It was such a simple question, but it made her stop in her tracks, mouth falling open as she struggled to answer.

Again, she couldn't see it, couldn't hear it, but felt his amusement, as if he was in her mind, as if he was part of her.

“You're free to take them off, if you wish, for our dance.”

“Oh I...”

“I promise I won't step onto your feet and the grasses of my kingdom are soft and safe.”

The Doctor stared at him for some more moments, stunned, then nodded.

“Yes I... Thank you. That'd be lovely, actually.”

She quickly slipped out of the shoes, wriggling her toes with a relieved sigh as the pain and the tightness and the wobbliness faded, leaving her feeling a bit more like herself again, a bit securer.

“Better?” the King asked, the echo of his voice seeming to engulf her.

“Better,” the Doctor grinned, enjoying the feeling of the grass tickling her underneath her soles.

“Well then, my beautiful Doctor,” he bowed lightly, holding his hand out to her. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

She didn't hesitate for one second – Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered that she would have to reject him later, that she should start off more honest, less enthusiastic, but right now, all she could see was his hand.

She took it with a wide smile and she could _feel_ him smile back, could feel his childlike joy cascade in her mind.

He really was special, wasn't he, proper special.

It was so easy, with him. He guided her over the dance floor, feeling so close, yet so far away. She was so aware of where they touched, felt it burning hot, as it seemed to guide her whole body. She could follow his rhythm with ease, trying not to think of the Master, of how he had held her, how close they had been, the aching familiarity of, well, _him_ , always around. This was different, yet the same. As if she hadn't just met him. As if it didn't even matter that he had no face for her.

As if they knew each other forever.

“You're a good dancer, Doctor,” she heard him after a while and the Doctor found herself frowning.

“I... am?”

She could feel his gaze on her, it was as if little needles poked her face, all at once. She could feel him shifting closer rather than she could see. Vaguely, the Doctor was aware that people were all around them, dancing, celebrating, laughing, watching them, but all she could see was him and the shadows now surrounding both of them. Was it her or was his face... clearing up?

No, wait, this couldn't happening, she hadn't accepted him yet, she hadn't... had she?

Oh God, this king was telepathic, was if she didn't have to give her agreement verbally, what if...

 _Wait_.

_She knew that face._

“Oh, you _bloody_ bastard!”

The Master laughed, laughed like a maniac, even when she slapped him. He just let his face shift sideways and laughed some more.

“What have you done with him?” she asked, voice a bit too hysterical for her own tastes. “What have you done with the king?”

The Master was grinning at her gleefully when he turned his head back, eyes gleaming.

“I _am_ the King, love.”

“No, you're not! I saved the King... I...”

“Yes, and I don't think I've thanked you properly for that, yet. I could've dealt with the giant tromphees myself, of course, what are some lower vulture giraffes against my TCE, huh, but it was still nice to have you show up for my rescue for once.”

“That wasn't... that couldn't have been..”

“Course it was me. Perception filter, bit of hypnotism, some fog in the bottle from the cosmic black market...”

“But the king... Julevia... the tales.”

He shrugged. “I show up every few years, spend some days here, leave again. Ruling a kingdom is hard work, but... I've got good people, doing most of it for me.”

“You... you don't...”

“It's only one of seventeen planets I rule,” he explained with a little grin. “You can't save _all_ of them, Doctor. But this one's definitely my favourite. You know I love a good legend about me.”

“But that's.. that's ridiculous,” she breathed out. “Why would you... I mean... that whole legend... Why even bother?”

The Master shrugged. He had started gently swaying again, his hand still holding hers, his other around his waist and she let him lead her, following along absent-mindedly, still hanging at his lips for more explanations.

“I don't know. I just... suppose I have a reputation, you know? I messed up a lot of planets, a lot of civilisations. And I kinda felt like I wanted to do right by this one. This planet's beautiful and the people they... accept me.”

The Doctor couldn't help the little snort, but it came out fairly half-heartedly. Here in the moon- and lantern lights, on the grasses, barefooted and in his arms, it wasn't too hard, to believe that some... warmer part of him might have just wanted to belong somewhere.

“So... no mysterious shadow king, just you?” she smiled and he, suddenly, gave her an almost bashful smile.

“Sorry if I ruined your expectations. It was fun to mess with you, though.”

“You didn't,” she replied after a while, deciding to give into her urge and just... shifted inside his arms, snuggling at his chest, arms wrapped around his neck. “Could not be less disappointed.”

The Master, his one hand still in the air where he had held hers, froze for a second, then smiled gently and laid both arms around her back instead, swaying her slightly along with him.

“You can still be my queen, if you like,” he said, so quietly, she'd have a shot in pretending to have imagined it, if she really wanted to.

Instead, she sighed heavily against him.

“You've offered me the universe too many times by now to think I'd say yes to a planet.”

“They're happy,” he exclaimed. “And you like it here.”

“I do,” she grinned. “I'll come visit once in a while. But...”

“I didn't even assassinate anyone,” he tried again. “No one died on my way to the throne. It's all legal and everything.”

“Master...”

“I'm just saying. You don't have to say no because of moral obligations and...”

She stretched her neck, pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips, effectively shutting him up.

“It's your kingdom,” she finally whispered against his lips. “I think that's something you have to do for yourself. If I learned anything, then it's the amount of resentment I bring with meddling.”

“You're not meddling, I'm offering.” He was watching her reaction almost wearily, but she just laid back against his chest, head buried in the crook of his neck, and continued swaying, now leading him to move.

“I'm not one to settle down,” she finally managed to whisper against his skin and she could feel him shudder. It was enthralling. “But I promise you, I'm very much yours.”

Looking up as good as she could without shifting from her position, she saw him blink, once, twice, lips falling open and he was, quite apparently, speechless for some moments.

“Okay,” he finally brought out. “I'll take it.”

He let a hand wander underneath her chin, lifting it gently, so gently, in contrast to the kiss he gave her, hard and wanting, leaving her breathless against him.

“They can't see us, can they?” she asked after a while and he shook his head.

“No, for all they know, we've both vanished into shadows.”

She leaned against him, sighing contently.

“Do you want to leave?”

The Doctor smiled up to him, shaking her head.

“No. I want to dance. I think I got the hang of it, now."

The Master smiled softly. "I think you do."  
  
Darkness tightened around them. Silvery light settled as one lantern light after another slowly faded, candles burning down and blowing out from the gentle wind around them. One group after the next had left, until there was no one left but them and the crickets and the owls and the moonlight and still, they wouldn't let go of each other, gently swaying through the night and the Doctor couldn't remember when life had been more of a fairytale than tonight.


	27. Height Differences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nothing too big, just some stupidity I came up with. Defintiely wasn't my prompt. :(

It had been an accident. A horrible, terrible accident.

That didn't stop the Master, of course, from laughing, as soon as he had made sure that she was alive and her tiny hearts were still beating – Not compressed, if you will.

She was, indeed, alive, however, and not very taken by his reaction, he could see from the way her arms were flailing upwards, little fist curled together to threaten him, while high screeching noises filled the air somewhere beside his shoe.

It was downright _adorable_.

He leant down, wide, crazed grin as big as she was, at this point.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “I didn't quite catch that, what did you say?”

Her voice was very high-pitched like this. She sounded a bit like Mickey Mouse. Quite frankly, he was going to have to find a camera.

“Turn me back this moment!”

He couldn't quite hold back the giggle and watched his breath turning into a storm for her, hair and coat blowing back as she stood still before him, glaring.

The Master held up his TCE apologetically.

“You know, I would, I really would, you know me, I wouldn't enjoy a second of... this...” He raised his hand and led it up and down her tiny, tiny body, another choked laugh escaping him before he could hold it back. “... but I actually... did fail to add a reverse setting to my TCE. It might... take a while to build one in.”

It's funny. He could barely see her eyes and yet he could feel the force of the daggers they were throwing.

“Didn't learn much from that time you shrunk yourself, then, did ya?” she spat and it was funny, really, how she was trying to say it with forced but it just sounded like Mickey Mouse throwing a temper tantrum and he couldn't help it. The laughter he had tried so hard to hold back – okay, maybe not too hard – finally broke free, having him shaking beside her as he let his shoulders hang and braced his arms on the floor.

The Doctor glared some more, then used the opportunity to climb onto his shoulder.

Silently wiping away his tears, the Master turned his head towards her, debating his possibilities. One quick move and she'd fall off. One swipe with his other hand and she'd fall off. God, he could take her in hand and smash her like this.

He carefully stood back upright, trying his best not to move too fast and looked around his TARDIS room.

“Well, I'll need some materials,” he sighed. “Last time I had to go to three different planets to get my stuff together. Best if you slip into my pocket, really.”

Tiny fists hit his neck. It felt distinctly like someone poking him with cotton swabs.

“Come on, I know you. You don't want to hang around here. And the pocket is definitely safer than my shoulders.

He grabbed her, unsure what else to do and sat her down in his open palm, while pulling back his coat, offering her his waistcoat pocket.

The Doctor gave him a last, distasteful death glare, but when he brought down the hand she was sat on, she slipped into the pocket without further complaints.

Having the Doctor with him on his travels was.... odd. He had imagined it to be a pain, if he was being honest, because it meant less killing and less killing, in his point of view, also meant less fun. It, at the very least, overcomplicated things.

But the Doctor, apart from pinching him hard whenever his hand went to his TCE, turned out to be a surprisingly fun travel companion.

He could do without the constant climbing up to his shoulder whenever he had a quiet moment, just so she could sit on it and tell him all sorts of tales about whichever planet he had _just_ visited to get some mechanical parts for his device. But some of it wasn't half as bad. He had to admit he didn't know the people of Krentos actually gave away pieces for free, the pride of having their work carried through the universe payment enough. He had almost always stolen from them in his previous visits.

“They always reminded me of you a bit, actually,” the Doctor had said into his ear, legs dangling down his shoulders as if he was a considerably high bench.

Considering there were yellow coloured, wrinkled people with three eyes taking up most of their faces, the Master couldn't help but give her an offended side glance.

“They're brilliant inventors and they love sharing their work. You used to.”

Huh, she hadn't forgotten that, had she?

“No one wanted my work.”

“That's not true. You just went to offer them to the wrong people. Always too focused on power to notice the people below you, who could've made good use of your inventions. Instead, you offered them to people who already had everything.”

The Master didn't reply, just grunted and bowed down a bit faster than he normally would have, making her flail off his shoulders and cling to his coat collar to not fall to the ground.

“Didn't ask you for your opinion,” he finally hissed, after he had made his selection and picked up some pieces.

He felt three krentonisian triplets of eyes on him.

“Uhm,” he muttered, thinking that this had been far easier in the past. “I'll just... take these if... if that's alright?”

All three of them nodded.

“Okay. Uhm. Good. I'll be off then.”

The Doctor, still dangling from his collar, let a leg come down against his coat. He saw it more than he felt it and sighed.

“What?”

“At least say thank you! They're giving you something for free!”

“I'm not... I'm the Master!” he burst out, offended. “I don't say thank you!”

“Oh, you're quite welcome, young fellow,” one of the Krentonasians said and the Master turned a horrible shade of red, before walking out quickly and silently, while the Doctor, laughing, slipped into one of his pockets again.

“This would be easier if you weren't running around the table the whole time, distracting me, just so you know.”

The Doctor had gotten bored. Adding parts to his TCE was a delicate task – One wrong move could eradicate the Doctor instead of restoring her and as much as he despised her – A cosmos without the Doctor scarcely bore thinking about.

She, however, did not seem to care horribly much. She was running up and down the table, standing on tiptoes to watch him work, dragged at his fingers in an attempt to climb onto his hand. She was worse than a bored puppy, right this moment.

Reaching his limit, the Master hit the table with his flat hand, making it shake slightly, throwing the Doctor off her feet.

“I can't do this if you don't hold still! Either get back into the pocket or I'm building you a little cage!”

She stood completely still, looking up to him and he looked down at her for a moment, then sighed.

“Okay, yes, I'm aware we already did that.”

“I'm grateful I'm only shrunken this time,” she called from the table. “It's better than being gollum Doctor at least.”

A nasty little grin spread on the Master's face.

“Oh, I don't know. I quite liked you like that. At least you were quiet.”

The Doctor snorted.

“Please. You were bored out of your minds with it.”

The Master closed his eyes, just for a moment, a soft smile replacing the grin.

“Yes. I was. Okay then, come on.”

He offered her his hand and when she climbed onto it, sat her down on his shoulder again.

“But hold on tight, I'm gonna move it a little.”

“Oh, don't mind me,” she hummed, clearly more happy with this position, as she could watch him and chatter away – because of course she would. “I'm gonna be just fine.”

He worked until deep into the night, fairly convinced that he'd been done triple as fast without the Doctor's steady stream of chatting and singing and legs dangling, but also not regretting a single wasted minute of it.

“You know,” he finally sighed, as he tested his TCE on a few insects, successfully shrinking and enlarging them perfectly. “It really was an accident. You can't just show up in my TARDIS console room and expect me not to be caught off guard.”

“Couldn't know you'd shoot on instinct, now could I?” she frowned, from where she was sitting on the table, waiting for him to change her back.

The Master raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine, maybe I should've,” she sighed. “Are you ready?”

The Master's throat was oddly dry.

“I'm not... sure.”

One wrong thing... but the flies were all alive and buzzing. She wasn't a fly, of course, she was so much more and if he accidentally ended her forever, compressed her to death, made her hearts explode from too much air...

“Master.” She stood up, wrapping both arms around his finger. “You're the most brilliant mind I know. It's gonna be safe.”

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to a smile, his hearts racing.

“Most brilliant, huh?”

“By far,” she smiled.

“Fine, okay. Okay, here goes. Get ready.

He _was_ brilliant. He really was. So was the Doctor. Equally as brilliant, if not even a little bit more – Not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

Still, somehow, neither of them had thought about setting her down the table before returning her to full size.

And so, there she lay, fully restored to her full size, in a heap of wood, candles, tools and metal.

“Uhm,” the Master brought out, before breaking out into another fit of laughter. “Oops.”

With a defeated expression, the Doctor blew a strand of blond hair off her face.

“You just laugh,” she grumbled. “But don't forget that I know how to build a TCE myself now.”

He snorted and held out his hand for her.

“Come on,” he grinned. “Let's get you up and home.”

She took it quickly, probably glad not to have to climb onto it again, and let him pull her up and back on her feet. For a second, they stood just like that, a little too close to one another, the Master's hand still holding hers, looking at each other.

“You know,” he said after a little while. “I quite like you smaller than me.”

“Of course you do,” she replied, raising her eyebrow, even as her hazel eyes never left his. “You've got a superiority complex.”

“No, I just think you're cute on tiptoes,” he grinned.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She took one step closer towards him, their chests almost touching, and stood up on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“There.”

She didn't let go and the Master was blinking slowly and in confusion, even after his hands were instinctively on her hips, pulling her closer.

“Take me home?” she asked, smiling softly and the Master grinned, lifting his hands off her to open his waistcoat pocket.

“There you go.”

  
One of the bigger disadvantages of having a normal sized best friend/arch enemy was that her hits now actually hurt.


	28. Piano

Her cell was cold. It was always cold in here. She had long stopped to wonder whether the Judoon did it on purpose to wear their prisoners down or if it was just how they liked the air temperature.

She had long wondered about a lot of things.

There wasn't much stimulus for her mind. It was just staring at the same dull, grey walls all day long, until she was being picked up for a walk around the court. Constantly watched, constantly ignored.

“Hello Brian, I may call you Brian, I assume? Yes, another day of you not complaining. Or saying anything. At all. Great.”

Brian, or, how she had called him yesterday, Hannah, wordlessly dropped a tray with new, unidentified mash and left again.

“Thanks,” the Doctor muttered dully to the closed door. “Much appreciated.”

She'd given up trying to speak to them in Judoon – None of them even appreciated the effort. She was sure they didn't have many people to talk to down here, but she was also sure who ever had orchestrated her arrest had told them to not engage in conversation with her.

It was her strongest weapon, after all.

She guessed that meant she was unarmed.

With a sigh, the Doctor rolled off her sparse, uncomfortable bed, sitting upright, hands on her thighs, shoulders hanging, as she looked down at the tray.

Great. Her favourite mash. The grey one. She liked that one more than the green one. Though she did have the suspicion that the green one was just the grey one with mould.

Sighing, she gulped down the food, a shudder running through her body with every bite, but she knew she had to keep on eating _something_.

She laid back down on the bed, eyes going back to the ceiling. Dinner time meant she'd be left alone to sleep now. But they always left the lights on at night and the Doctor had always had trouble sleeping enough even in the darkness.

So she closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to find _it_ again. Trying to flee into the only thing she had left.

And there it was, in a distant corner of her mind, as it always was when she looked for it, the gentle sounds of piano music.

It wasn't exactly sleeping, but it was an escape, of some sort. She felt herself get lighter, less aware of her surroundings and situation, as she listened to the soothing music. She wasn't sure where it came from – must be her imagination, she thought, must be her mind trying not to snap, to give her something – but it was a rescue boat she clung to with all her might.

“Tired,” she thought and the piano turned it into a perfect piece, transformed tiredness into music, making her soul feel heard. “On the inside.”

More tender notes and she couldn't help but think that the music sounded tired, too. As if the person playing it was worn down. Then again, the person playing it was her mind, so maybe it was just another step down the slippery slope to resignation.

Should she fight?

Oh, she supposed she should fight. That's what the Doctor would do... Right?

She got up, not off her bed, but in her mind, followed the trace of music to try and get some life into it. Find the source, then revive the source, she thought to herself, while walking, except she wasn't walking, just floating through her mind, until she found him in the furthest corner possible, sitting in an empty cell – There was nothing but a piano in the middle of a dark room, a light shining down on him, as he kept on hitting the keys.

He didn't even stop playing when she entered.

The Doctor supposed she should've known. Now that she thought about it, it made sense. Her one thorn in the side, the one person she couldn't bear to keep in her mind, couldn't bear to think of, even in here, her one speck of light in the darkness he had created himself.

Of course he'd be her saving grace.

“Hey there.”

The Master looked up, just once, to signal he had heard her, fingers still gracefully flying over the keys.

“'s a nice play.”

“Don't interrupt it then,” he replied. “Shush.”

He shifted slightly on the piano bench, making space for her.

She supposed this was her mind, telling her to shut up, to give in, to float away. Maybe it was right, what did she know? All she knew was that she had missed him, that she was still missing him, that she hadn't realised how much she missed company until she'd imagined it into her own mind.

And so, desperately, she sat down next to him, silenced.

The Master's melody returned back to life, in return. The soft jingle returned to energetic, powerful sounds, echoing off the walls even as they made her shiver. It was beautiful and sad at the same time.

She rested her cheek on his shoulder, wished she could really feel him, that he was really there.

What a horrible thing to wish for.

When he finally stopped playing, she felt the silence drowning her, even before the echoes of the last key had completely faded.

“Don't stop playing.”

“Don't worry, love,” he replied, turning his head to look down at her. “We've got all night.”

He was right, of course. Night and night again she had laid here, listening to his melodies until her mind had ran blank and the pain had lifted for a few hours.

Weariness, tiredness, resignation, they all seemed to want to overtake her and the Doctor started one last fight.

“When will this end?”

The Master shrugged.

“You had a chance to end it and you didn't.”

The Doctor frowned and the gesture even reached her body.

“What do you mean?”

“You let a human do it for you. Are you proud of that? He died, but you know I didn't. Won't. Unless you're the one doing it.”

“No,” she replied, voice hoarsely, so hoarsely in fact, she realised she'd said the words out loud. “No, that's not what I meant. I meant prison.”

Again, the Master shrugged.

“For you? Whenever you decide to break out.”

“Don't you think I would've broken out by now if I could?”

“Please. You're the Doctor, you can break out of everything. The only reason you haven't yet is because you don't want to. Not really. You're too busy bathing in self-pity.”

She wanted to deny it but what was the point. What was the point in denying your own mind?

“What about you?” she finally asked. “What happens to you when I leave?”

The Master let one finger hit one of the keys again, the sound sad and pathetic in the dark, deafening silence around them.

“There'll be no one left to play for,” he just said.

Self-pity, she marvelled, as she walked up and down her cell the next day, didn't even hit it properly.

There were things she wasn't proud of. Things she felt guilty about. Things for which she, she was sure, deserved to be trapped in here, for all of eternity.

None of these were what was trapping her – She had been carrying guilt along with her for so many years now, it had become a part of who she was, what she was born out of.

No, this was stronger than that. With Gallifrey gone, her past lost, not only the one she had remembered, but the one that no one was left to remember now, not even herself, she wasn't sure what was left of her. Sure, she could go back to pretending her home wasn't gone – again – could go on like she had back then, trying to make it up to the universe but it wasn't even her fault, this time. She didn't have that guilt to drive her anymore, all she had was rage.

Burning, over-taking rage.

And she knew if she let the rage take over, she'd end up going the same path the Master had taken.

It was ironic, of course, that he was the source of all this rage, the reason for her chest exploding in it whenever she looked at him, thought of Gallifrey, those Cybermen and yet... she had never _understood_ him better than today, as she stared at the ceiling, waiting for the next tray full of mash. She'd never gotten him quite like she did now. He wasn't evil for evil sake, it wasn't fun, it was all he had left.

It was as simple as that.

They'd taken everything from him and she'd helped, oh there was no fooling herself, she'd _helped_ , and he'd tried to take everything back and now here he was, left with nothing but the burning rage. Had it consumed his hearts or was there anything left to salvage?

She heard piano music in the distance. Ah, time to return to the dreamscapes of her own mind. She could sneak in a talk, could pretend that he'd hear her, could pretend to alleviate her conscience or her rage.

She wasn't sure which one, yet.

So the Doctor closed her eyes and within seconds, she was with him again. It had gotten easier, now that she'd gone the way once. Odd, the way minds worked. He seemed to be less in the corner and more the centre now, still sitting at his piano, playing... angrily?

It was hauntingly beautiful.

“Hello.”

The looked up shortly, then let his eyes flicker back down.

“I don't think you need to actually concentrate. It's all in my mind, remember?”

The music stopped and his eyes were narrowing as he looked up at her with interest.

“Is it?”

“Isn't it?”

The Master laughed, just once, it was cold and bitter.

“It's always about you.”

“This is not how I wanted it to go,” she assured him. “I came here to say sorry.”

He turned back towards the piano, trying to play, but slipped off the keys again and again.

“So say it then,” he finally replied darkly, eyes pinned to the piano, even as he gave up playing, just randomly pressed his fingers down on random keys instead.

“I.. I'm sorry. I get it, now. All of it. In here, it makes perfectly much sense. The way you are, the things you do.”

A long pause settled between them, none of them speaking, the Master still staring at the piano, dark hair falling into his face, as if she wasn't there, fingers pressing down keys, dark, heavy tones filling the cell.

“If all of this is just in your mind,” he finally says, “then I'm gonna assume you're not planning on telling me in person?”

“I...”

“Righteous, moral Doctor. Too much of a chicken?”

“You're not here,” she replied, firmly. “I'm trapped and...”

“And too comfortable to break out. So you said.”

“Comfortable?” she spit. “None of this is comfortable.”

“So you think that makes it alright, I reckon? The fact that you're uncomfortable, that you're not enjoying your self-chosen exile, it makes it okay that you're abandoning your friends, the universe, _me_?”

“I thought you'd get it,” she muttered. “Of all people, I thought you'd be the one getting it.”

“You forget, _love_ , I'm just your mind, speaking to you. All your guilt, all your self-hate. sitting in a corner, ruining you. That's why I'm this face, aren't I? Your constant... how did you call it? _Thorn in your side_?”

“You're more than that,” she replied, throat dry.

“Yeah? And what is that? A spike in your side?”

She huffed, feeling sadness overcome her. Whatever she did, she always got it wrong with him, even when he was just a figment of her own mind.

“No. I'm seeing your face because you're the one I let down the most. Because you're my oldest friend. Because you've been the one in both my exiles to keep me sane. Because my wondrous, stupid mind thinks that maybe you can do it again. You can't, though. You shouldn't have to. Because I've let you down. So, so much. But that's the beauty of imagination, right? There's no harm done, is there, in imagining a world where I can say sorry to you and it's _enough_ , is there? Not if I'll never see you again, never hurt you again.”

“Doctor,” he replied, a slight frown on his forehead as he finally turned his head to face her. “But I'm right here.”

She shrieked out of her thoughts when the slam of the cell door tore her back into reality. She turned her head just in time to watch one of the Judoon leave, a tray of mash right where they always dropped it.

The Doctor ignored it, turning back onto her back, trying to go back, but there was no piano music to guide her.

Like she always did, she'd ruined the only good thing she had had.

The next day was court day and so she was waiting in her cell, prepared, because she'd never been unprepared, because there was nothing to do and the Judoon picked her up at the same time they always did, leading her through the narrow, grey aisles and blocks until they stood outside.

There was no sun on this planet, just grey fogginess, perfectly aligning with all the other grey and so she stood in the tiny court, tried to enjoy the cool, fresh air, looking around at the other prisoners through the fog. It was the only contact with other people in here she ever got, but she'd never tried to make any and neither had any of them.

Until she saw the Master, absent-mindedly standing against a fence, head turned towards the sky, as he looked up through heavily-lidded eyes.

“What,” she mouthed, the word not even able to leave her lips.

She tried to walk towards him but the Judoon accompanying her was suddenly in her way, staring down at her darkly.

She wanted to call him but her throat was dry, closed.

So she did the only thing she could think of. Her eyes never leaving him, as if she was scared he'd just disappear if only she blinked, she focused her mind on his and reached out.

His eyes lazily turned towards her, widened and she could see his lips tremble, only for a moment, as he pushed himself off the fence. Just as he tried to move, another Judoon stood in his way, just like hers had before. The Master gave him a death glare, but leant back against the fence.

“ _Well, look at you. All orange. Cute. I like the look._ ”

He tried to sound so casual, in her mind, but she could feel his excitement and he knew that she could.

“ _Doesn't suit you well, if I'm being honest. Purple is more your colour._ ”

“ _Don't we both know it,”_ he sighed.

“ _What are you doing here.”_

“ _I'm a prisoner, love. Just like you.”_

“ _No, you're not,”_ she hissed. “ _You never are. There's not a prison in this universe strong enough to hold you. So I'm asking again – What are you doing here._ ”

The Judoon by his side signalled for him to move. They were going back in.

“ _No, no, no, please keep the connection upright. Please. Master, please._ ”

He rolled his eyes as he passed her, his hand touching hers fleetingly and she felt herself tearing up.

God, she hadn't been touched in far, far too long.

“I _told you before, you absolute idiot. I'm right here._ ”

It had been real, all of it. Well, as real as mindscapes could be, but him, them, the talks, the music he'd played for her.

Real.

Oh God, he was right, she was such an idiot. Her mind had numbed so much in here, she'd just accepted it as her refugee, made up by herself but he was in here.

Why?

She was too jittery, too strung up to come to any kind of calm for at least an hour. When she finally managed to stop pacing her cell and laid down on her bed, trying to breathe quietly, there was his music in her mind again.

_His_ music.

Because he really was here.

“Master!” She almost ran into him this time, stumbling over the piano as it was directly in the first room she'd entered.

He rolled his eyes at her, watching after her as she fell, still playing.

The sounds woke something deep inside of her, something she had thought long gone, yet so familiar, so... her.

Hope.

“Right here,” he said again, never interrupting his melody.

“What are you doing here. Why are you here. I don't understand,” she asked, still sitting on the floor, looking up to him in awe.

His eyes flickered to her, so shortly, she almost thought she had imagined it.

“Turned myself in.”

“What?” she asked, taken aback.

“Didn't know what else to do. Where to go.”

“You're lying,” she brought out, lips stiff and cold. “That can't be it.”

“And why would I be lying, Doctor?”

“I... I don't know.” She was shivering. The cold of her cell had made it into her mindscape, now.

The music stopped as he leant back, facing her with a sigh.

“You've given up,” he finally said. “Why can't I? There's no where to go for me, because all I've ever done is following your traces.”

“How long have you been in here?” she asked and he shrugged.

“I'm not sure. I stopped counting.”

“You can't stop counting,” she brought out. “You're a Time Lord. It's in your senses.”

“How long have you been here?” he asked instead.

“Three years, five months, three weeks, one day.”

“Longer,” he just replied, calmly. “I've been here longer.”

The Doctor felt something heavy, something painful twist her hearts.

“We gotta get out of here.”

The Master snorted.

“Oh, _now_ you want to leave?”

“Yes. Yes, now I want to leave.”

He turned his head again, pressing some keys at random, eyes narrowed and she realised that was how he thought.

“How come?”

She got herself off the floor, sitting down next to him on the bench. Technically, it didn't matter where she sat, she was in her own mind, but she liked to imagine feeling close to him, liked to imagine to feel warmer next to him.

“It's all I've ever known to do, isn't it? Fighting for someone else.”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged, returning to playing his melody. More hope, tenderness, something so deep and beautiful were in those sounds and the Doctor listened quietly for a while, head on his shoulder, even though it wasn't really there.

“God, I wish I could touch you,” she whispered when he had finished. “Properly touch you. Telepathy is good, it's kept my mind alive but...”

She shook her head softly.

“You didn't strike me as the touchy-feely kind this time around,” he mentioned quietly and the Doctor gave him a sad smile.

“I'm not. That's the problem. I haven't been touched since... since I regenerated, I think. Not really. I guess I regret that now.”

He raised a hand and gently let a finger run down her neck to her collarbone, feather-light touch, so light that maybe, if she just tried hard enough, she could imagine to actually feel it.

He leaned in, lips on her neck and she could almost remember the way hot breath felt on her skin.

“Sucks to be you, then.”

She tore open her eyes, panting hard and realising she had just been kicked out of her own mindscape.

Well, good to know that he was still a bastard.

The Doctor lay awake that night, as she did every night, but this time on her own. No music to accompany her suffering, nothing to flee into, just her own, gaping abyss to face.

She'd been so focused on all the things she'd lost, all the resignation and rage inside of her she'd almost forgotten she still had something to lose, still had something to care for, still had something to face.

If she broke out, and she was going to, she realised, she'd do it for the Master. It was a stupid reason, a dangerous reason, it shouldn't be what drove her but it was. She couldn't leave him in here. This universe needed her and in return, it needed him, her perfect counterpart, her balance, her....

Her cell door clicked.

She debated jumping up, debated pressing herself against a wall, debated five hundred different breakout strategies, but she could feel him before she saw him, so she just laid still, facing the door while the Master entered, a crooked, amused grin on his face.

God, it was so good to see him, properly see him, even if his hair was just as greasy as hers in here and he wore the same horrible jumpsuit.

The Doctor couldn't help but grin back at him.

“Are we running away?”

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

With a little gesture of his hands, he ordered her to make some space and she shifted on her bed, watched him lie down beside her, arms open.

“Come on,” he muttered, affection in his tone and within a moment, she was curled up in his arms, sighing as a flood of relief crashed through her.

He was warm and solid and real and his arms tightened around her, held her, made her feel safe, made her feel real in return.  
  
“You know, I changed my mind,” she muttered against his chest, tears in her eyes she hadn't wanted but wasn't going to deny either. “I think I like being touched if you're the one doing it.”

“Well, today's your lucky day then,” the Master replied, kissing her forehead gently, feather-light lips brushing her skin, making her shiver pleasantly. “Are you still angry?”

“Angry?” she asked.

“Rage,” he said. “You thought about it a lot.”

“I'm fine,” she replied, sighing heavily, snuggling a bit closer, as if trying to crawl into his skin and he let her. “It's fine. I think I found something else.”

He hummed.  
  
"You never said," she asked, feeling her voice break but knowing she had to, stars, she had to. "My... apology, I..."  


He turned his head, shifted back a little to look into her eyes.  
  
"I always thought it'd be okay. If one day you'd get it. If you understood. I never thought you understanding it would end up breaking my hearts."

She wasn't sure what to say, so she just looked back at him, got lost in those eyes, remembered the songs he'd been playing, the sadness, the hope, the beauty and remembered that they weren't hers, weren't her imagination coming up with comforting things, they had been his.

"We'll be fine," she promised. "Both of us."

To her relief, he nodded and pulled her gently back into his arms, lips kissing the top of her head again and again.

"We will be."

“How'd you get out anyway?” She was beginning to feel sleepy. What a treacherous mechanism of her body to never let her fall asleep during torture, but when she really, really wanted to stay awake.

He shrugged and she could feel the movement beneath her.

“You know me. No prison in this universe can hold me.”

She grinned, pressing kisses onto his neck, his cheek, every bit of skin she could reach and in return, she felt him tear up, too, remembered he probably hadn't been touched just as long... stars, much, much longer than her.

“So you turned yourself in... and now you're ready to break out with me?”

“It's all I've ever known to do,” he whispered against her hair. “Fighting for you.”


	29. Coffee Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once in this challenge, I'm actually doing what everyone expects me to do with this prompt - Here's a Coffee Shop AU featuring Eight, Ten & Thirteen. The only AU aspects are O not being a spy, but a barista and the tenth Doctor not regenerating how we know it, though, but I think it works. Let me know if it works. (Oh, and Gallifrey isn't gone, but believe me, the Master is real fucking pissed at it. So pissed, it messed up his piloting.)

The Doctor had always been a tea person.

It was the closest Earth had to home, actually – Not that he'd ever admit to any kind of homesickness, but it was still nice, once in a while, to have something familiar in this vast sea of strange, wondrous things.

Of course, Earth didn't quite have the herbs Gallifrey had, but that was okay, as far as he was concerned. They had their own, special things.

Cinnamon, for example, was one of the things he'd come to love. There was no cinnamon on Gallifrey.

So when Fitz had dragged him into the little coffee shop, he'd felt a little lost, for a moment, before he found something called a cinnamon coffee.

It was a cute little place. Well-visited, considering how unassuming it was from the outside. He'd almost not noticed it on the busy London street, surrounded by all the huge buildings and stores and masses of people.

They stood in queue, Fitz humming a little song the Doctor still studying the board when the barista caught his eye. He was a pretty young boy, brown eyes and dark hair falling into his face and his smile was brilliant. And right now directed at him.

The Doctor cleared his throat shortly, pointing at Fitz and somehow, the barista's smile only grew, as he gently shook his head.

The Doctor drew back his hand and pointed at his own chest, causing him to nod.

Huh.

With a shaky little smile, he let his hand sink and started to impatiently rocking on the balls of his feet whenever someone in the queue took their time with ordering. Fitz turned around several times, giving him confused glances.

Finally, it was their turn.

“Heyya,” Fitz greeted, smiling just as brightly as the barista was – Just not at him.

Instead, he rested his chin in his hand, supporting himself on the counter and dreamily looked over his head toward the Doctor.

“Hey there, pretty.”

“Oh,” the Doctor replied, a laugh caught in his voice. “Hello.”

Fitz, stunned, looked from one to the other, his mouth slightly hanging open.

“What can I do for you?”

“Oh. Uhm. I'd... You know, I'm not sure. I suppose I could try the cinnamon coffee, but I-... You don't sell any tea, by any chance?”

“We do not,” the barista grinned. “Not a coffee fan, are you?”

“Not particularly,” the Doctor replied, trying to sound apologetic.

“I'm even luckier then, that you came in here.”

“I... well, I suppose you are.”

Fitz slammed his head into his hand, shaking it slightly, but the barista just laughed.

“Tell you what. I can make you my special creation. It's my secret recipe. And if you don't like it, I'll give you some tea.”

“I thought you don't sell tea,” the Doctor asked curiously and the man shrugged.

“We don't. But I always got a thermos on me. Big tea fan myself.” He winked at the Doctor who stood there for a second, confused.

“Maybe you should work at tea shop, then?”

“In my next life, maybe,” the barista grinned. “Now. Special coffee or nah?”

“If that's what I have to go through for a cup of tea.” But the Doctor's smile was gentle. “Why not. I'll give it a go. I'm nothing if not adventurous.”

“Wonderful. Back in a bit.”

“I...-” Fitz called, but the barista had already vanished into a little back room, without doubt preparing his “secret recipe” in, well, secret. “I didn't even order yet.”

“Patience, Fitz,” the Doctor scolded him. “He's being awfully polite.”

“That's one way to describe shameless flirting, I guess,” Fitz mumbled under his breath.

Short minutes later, the barista returned with a steaming cup of coffee, carefully handing it over to the Doctor – Right over Fitz' head.

“Let me know what you think,” he said with a smirk and the Doctor felt butterflies in his stomach that had very little to do with the – honestly very good – smell of the coffee.

He nodded, pulling the cup close to himself, as if clinging to it, then made his way to the nearest table, waiting for Fitz.

He took a sip from his coffee, feeling the cute barista's eyes on him as he did.

Something exploded on his tongue – He wasn't sure what it tasted of. There definitely was cinnamon in this, and coffee, and a lot of sugar and milk and something else he just couldn't place, something creamy, something _good_.

Stunned, the Doctor kept drinking. His cup was already half-drained when Fitz finally sat down next to him, his own cup balancing before him.

“Honestly,” he sighed. “I guess a man has to have locks to be properly waited on in here.”

The Doctor bit back a comment and instead took another sip. Fitz watched him with a raised eyebrow.

“That good, huh?”

“It... it's not bad,” the Doctor replied, feeling, to his eternal embarrassment, that he was blushing.

Fitz snorted into his cup.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Another few sips and the Doctor's cup was empty. He stared down at it rather gloomily, feet bobbing up and down under the table, until Fitz couldn't take it any longer.

“Oh, go on then,” he laughed. “Get another one. I'm not even halfway through mine.”

With a grateful smile, the Doctor swooshed off the table and towards the currently deserted counter, where the barista of his hearts was currently sweeping, head bowed, but the smile on his lips giving him away.

“Hey there, pretty,” the Doctor tried, playfully and brown, warm eyes shot up to him as his smile grew crooked.

“Hey there yourself. I can see from the empty cup in your hands that you liked it?”

“It... yes. I... it was alright. For coffee.”

The barista laughed.

“What's it gonna be, then? A cup of my tea or the coffee?”

“Is it special tea, too?” the Doctor asked, now leaning against the counter in a similar manner than he had earlier and the barista stepped a little closer.

“It's normal peppermint, actually.”

“Oh.” He hadn't meant to sound quite so disappointed, but the man seemed to find it quite endearing. A laugh fell from his lips.

“I can just give you a cup of both, if you like? On the house.”

“You'd do that?” the Doctor smiled.

The barista shrugged.

“Both isn't on the menu, so it's not like I was going to charge you either way.”

“Oh,” the Doctor replied again and the barista laughed some more.

“It's nice you already know my name.”

“I... what?”

“My name,” he said again. “It's O.”

“O?” the Doctor asked. “Really? That's an odd name. Never heard that before.”

“Well, it's Oliver, technically,” he replied and then added with a wink, “but you can call me O.”

“O,” the Doctor said again. “I like that.”

O raised his eyebrows.

“Huh? Oh,” he laughed. “The Doctor. My name's the Doctor. But you uhm... can call me Doctor.”

“Alright then, Doctor,” O said with a little amused shake of his head. “Here's your tea. I'll bring you your coffee in a bit.”

“Thanks.”

Fitz was leaning back in his chair when he returned, regarding him with another shake of his head, clearly in total disbelief.

“Why don't you two get yourselves a room, huh?” he asked and the Doctor simply drank a sip of his tea, not trusting himself to not tell his friend just how much he'd like that.

When O came to the table to offer him his coffee, the Doctor found his fingers brushing against his, just for a moment, and a pleasant little shock went through his entire body just from that little touch.

O gave him one last, brilliant smile, then returned to his place behind the counter.

“Well, I'll give you that,” Fitz sighed. “He is cute.”

“Yes, he... he rather is, isn't he?”

On the plate, right where he'd expect a napkin, was a little note with a phone number on it.

Smiling into his coffee, the Doctor quickly grabbed it and put it into his pocket, pretending not to notice Fitz' amused expression.

He definitely would have to come here more often.

  
As promises went, he had been a bit lousy in keeping that one. The next time he walked in was alone, two-three faces and several hundred years later. He didn't think O would remember him - They had texted a little, but that was it, really.

For some reason, he hadn't forgotten O.

The Doctor had gotten fairly good at leaving ~~most~~ people behind. But somehow that one had stuck around, in the back of his mind.

It had only been a few weeks since their last meeting for O, he's made sure of that.

And so he felt a pang of guilt as those brown, soft eyes raised in excited hope at the sound of the doorbell.

To his endless surprise, however, O's face lightened up at the sight of him.

“Doctor,” he called over from the counter, waving enthusiastically.

“I... what...” For a second, the Doctor was stunned, forgetting even about the pain, of, well, _dying_ , before taking some tentative steps towards his old friend. “You know it's me?”

“You came out of the same blue box,” O replied with a cheeky grin. “So I figured that's you. Is it like in superman? You go in and come out even prettier?”

The Doctor let out a pained laugh that quickly turned into a hiss. Golden light filled the air, just a little, and he hurried to keep it in, to try and not scare all the other guests.

O's grin fell off his face.

“Are you alright?”

The Doctor looked up at him with wide eyes, feeling terrified.

“Let's just say you're about to find out how this changing my face thing works.”

“That's... that's not a good thing is it?” O's eyes were full of compassion, making the Doctor's hearts twist.

“It's... it's fine, I think,” he finally muttered. “I've done it before. I have. It's just, I wasn't done with this me yet. So much to see. So much to do...” He hissed again, clamping down on the counter. “I don't want to go, yet.”

“But you have to?”

The Doctor nodded. In his mind, there was Gallifrey, exploding hopes and fears, the Master, telling him to go out of his way... He flinched.

“There were bigger things at stake than me.”

O quickly opened the counter, beckoning him in.

“Come on, we'll go behind for a bit.”

He helped the Doctor behind, into a little office room with a coffee maker, a table where he had deposited his bag on and a sofa, where he helped the Doctor onto.

Grateful, the Doctor sat down, trying to take deep, calming breaths.

“So, just that I get this right. You're dying?”

“Yeah it's what we do, pretty much,” the Doctor muttered. “We change our whole body upon death. It's a cheap trick. Regeneration.”

O had never let him go, he noticed. His hand was firmly on his shoulder, never wavering.

“It's any minute now,” he sighed. “You should probably step back, it's a bit... intense.”

O furrowed his brows.

“I don't think you came here for me to take a step back, Doctor. I'm not letting you die alone.”

Speechless, the Doctor stared at O and O stared back, eyes suddenly hard and determined.

“Alright,” he finally whispered, voice hoarse. “Just be careful, alright?”

O nodded and sat down next to him, pulling the Doctor into his arms. For a second, he froze, then a single, strangled sob escaped him as he leant against O's chest, feeling his double heart beat and feeling... wait what. Double...-

Golden light exploded in the room. The coffee maker fell off the table, a window exploded, several chairs fell over, but O held him, tightly against his chest, doing nothing but closing his eyes to the storm of bursting lights surrounding both of them. And he clung to him, clung to him with all his force.

When the Doctor opened his eyes again, they were different eyes, but they still found him just as beautiful.

Still, something... something about O... there had been something, for sure, he had it in the back of his mind, poking at him, even as he jumped out of his arms, around the room, trying to find a mirror, feeling at his hair, O laughing beside him.

Something important.

Something he should've remembered.

  
They texted more over the years. She had never been quite out of touch with O. She wasn't a regular texter, not one to keep up with old friends very well, but he was both, persistent, in her mind and in texting, and also incredibly non-pushy. Whenever she decided to text him, he was there, reading her messages and replying like no time had passed and she thought she was being horrible, really horrible.

He had wanted nothing but flirt with a pretty man, maybe get something out of it and instead, he'd ended up with her dying in his arms and occasional flirting via text.

The Doctor sighed.

She'd have to talk to him, meet him, say thank you in person, say _anything_.

With Yaz, Graham and Ryan safely dropped off at home, she figured she might as well...

The Doctor made sure to park her TARDIS right where he could see it, then slipped out of the door, coat swooshing behind her as she headed for the little coffee shop.

Excitement spread inside her – She hadn't seen O in far, far too long. How she missed his gentleness, his reckless flirting, those warm eyes that understood her so well..

She slipped in through the door, the door bell ringing.

“Oh,” she said as she saw that the whole store was deserted.

“Yes?” he greeted her from the counter, making her chuckle.

“No one else here?” she asked, as she stepped closer and O, beautiful, wonderful, real O, smiled at her warmly, before amused eyes flickered to the door behind her.

“Might be because we've closed two hours ago.”

“Oh,” she said again, making him snort into the cup he was drying. “Oh no. Should I...”

He quickly dropped the cup, stretching one arm out to her and grabbing her wrist.

“No. Stay. It's fine, Doctor.”

She smiled up at him – He was taller than her this time, if not by much.

“Recognised me, did you?”

O laughed, his hand not leaving her wrist, thumb stroking over the fabrics of her coat and suddenly she found herself wishing she wasn't wearing that bloody thing.

“Most glowing woman I've ever seen,” he said. “Must've been you.”

“You really are something, you know that?” she smirked, leaning over the counter, somehow feeling the urge to be closer to him. “Get a real life alien in your little coffee shop and just... don't care.”

O laughed.

“Doctor, please. You're the most wondrous person I've ever had the fortune to meet. Aliens are... somewhat of my passion.”  
  
“Oh, they are?”

He shrugged.

“Don't tell anyone but I hacked myself into the UNIT databank with... thirteen? I think it was thirteen.”

The Doctor's eyes widened.

“So you...”

“I knew a bit about you already, yeah,” O laughed. “Never did I dream you'd walk into my coffee shop, though.”

“So what's such a talented hacker doing, working as a barista?”

O snorted.

“Talented? Please. The password set was just Kate Stewart's father. The only databank I had an easier time cracking was Torchwood's.”

The Doctor raised both eyebrows at him in expectations and O's grin grew.

“BigCockZ69.”

She couldn't help but close her eyes for a second, shaking her head in mild amusement, while trying not to focus on the odd, tingling feeling that had spread in her whole body, as that smooth, beautiful voice of his had started talking about cocks.

Silly old Doctor, carrying around a crush from hundreds of years ago.

O was doing that thing again, resting his chin in his hands, leaning on the counter, looking up at her and she felt herself blush at the intensity of affection in those brown eyes.

“So... you're a woman now.”

She nervously smoothed over one of her blond strands.

“Yes... yes, right, i always forget about that. That's not... a problem, is it.”

“A problem?” O asked, eyes gleaming.

“I... I mean... It's.. not... Uhm. I mean.”

O laughed.

“If you want to know whether I'm still hella attracted to you – Yes, I am. My attraction isn't limited by gender.”

She bit her lower lips softly, but couldn't keep the wide grin from spreading at his words.

“Neither is mine.”

“Would be weird if it was, considering your people can apparently change it at random.”

“It's not a common thing on our planet all together, actually. Attraction, that is. I'm... one of the exceptions. In almost every aspect, but especially that one.”

“Oh you are, are you?” O grinned and all of a sudden, he seemed almost predatory, his grin all teeth and it was an unusual sight, but one that sent shivers of anticipation down the Doctor's spine.

“Anyone in particular?”

Tired of stammering, the Doctor took a deep breath, suppressing a laugh.

“Oh, shut up and kiss me, coffee boy.”

O's grin widened, became softer at the edges and he grabbed her collar, pulling her face towards his over the counter and kissed her. His lips were soft on hers, his tongue was gentle as it slipped against hers and he tasted of cinnamon and... something else.

“You've been drinking your special coffee, haven't you?” she asked and he laughed against her lips.

“Shut up, alien boy, and kiss me.”

Right. Kissing. He opened the counter, without even leaving her mouth, his lips apparently unable to get enough of hers and she could only reciprocate while slipping behind the counter. He was leading her backwards into his back room, arms wrapping around her, lying on her hips, tugging her forwards impatiently and she followed with a happy sigh against him, pushing him onto the sofa as soon as they had reached it.

Climbing over him, she leant down, mouth on his neck, breathing in. He smelled of coffee – She'd always been more of a tea person, but stars, it was beginning to grow on her, the beautiful, warm smell of coffee.

“You're special, you know that, O? Really, properly special.”

He grinned.

“Must be my secret ingredient.”

“Right,” she grinned back, letting her hand wander underneath his shirt and to his chest, resting it right over his heartbeats.

“You'll ever tell me what that is, by the way?”

O's laugh was hoarse, the lust in his eyes obvious now, as his pupils widened.

“No way. I need something to have you come back here, Doctor.”

She shook her head, leaning down, her hand still on his double heartbeat, kissing him again.

Wait, double heartbeat? Wait, that was it, that was the thing she had....

She shot back, almost hitting her head on the table as she fell off the sofa, crawling away from him backwards.

“Doctor?” he asked, confusion in those brown eyes. “Doctor, what's...”

Oh, he was a good actor. Look at him, being all soft and sweet and gentle and kind and loving and... and...

Tears filled her eyes.

Alive.

“You're a bloody arse it's what's wrong, _Master_.”

He froze mid-movement, hand out-stretched towards her, mouth open to say something that was stuck in his throat now.

“Double heartbeat,” she whispered. “That's what I had forgotten. You're a Time Lord. More important – You were a Time Lord already when there were no Time Lords, just you and me.”

The Master let his hand sink slowly.

The Doctor's hearts twisted.

“I can't believe you did this,” she brought out and he shook his head, letting himself fall back onto the sofa.

“You liked him, though. O.”

“Of course I liked him,” she huffed. “It's not like I had a chance not to. You took everything I like about a person and and...”

“Because I know you.”

“Yes, well. Congratulations.”

She let herself fall onto the sofa next to him, arms crossed before her chest.

“Why didn't you just tell me it was you. What was your plan, anyway? A coffee shop? Really?”

The Master gave her a side glance.

“No plan.”

“What do you mean, no plan?”

He let out a breath.

“My TARDIS crashed. I was stuck. I needed a job. This was the next best thing and you'd be surprised how little people want you to talk in this job. I like not talking to people. No plan. Just surviving on this...” He waved his hands around, ending, without a doubt, the sentence with a string of insults in his mind.

She took a deep breath.

“You could've just asked me for help. A trip to Gallifrey. Anything.”

He flinched, visibly, at that.

“Couldn't,” he just replied, still not looking at her, eyes pinned at the floor.

“Well, what do you need, I'll take you...”

“Nah.”

“What?”

“I don't need a trip, okay? Especially not to Gallifrey. Screw Gallifrey.”

He seemed frantic now, panicked almost and finally turned his head towards her, brown eyes widening pleadingly.

“I know I shouldn't have lied, but I hadn't seen you in years and I've been bored and I've been lone...- Alone for a while and I just... was relieved to see you, alright? I couldn't tell past you there was a future version of me on the loose, because later you would think I'd have died and it would've caused a paradox and so I just kept on... doing it later on and maybe I shouldn't have, but...”

The Doctor shook her head, sighing deeply.

He'd held her when she had died, she remembered. That night, after his past self had disappeared into Gallifrey, he'd been there, held her in his arms to not die on her own.

“It's... okay, I think. Not great but I.. I get it.”

He fell silent with a frown.

“Really?”

“We're a messed up pair, us,” she nodded. “But you don't have to... You don't have to lie for me to like you, idiot. You're my oldest friend in the universe. I liked O _because_ he was you.”

A little smirk appeared on his face.

“I know you did.”

The Doctor nudged his side with her elbow, then let herself sink back against him, cheek on his shoulder.

She felt a breath leave the Master's body, felt the tension slip beneath her as he relaxed into her proximity.

“So you... you don't hate me, right?”

The Doctor hummed.

“Course not.”

“So the shop is closed,” he mused. “We have a quite comfortable sofa underneath us.”

The Doctor, seeing where this was going, slipped out of her coat.

“And we're already halfway out of our clothes, too,” she announced, as she dropped it to the floor, making his grin widen.

“See, you just _get me_ , Doctor.”

“The secret ingredient,” she asked, just as his lips found hers again and he stopped with an impatient growl. “It was something Gallifreyan, wasn't it?”

A little laugh escaped him.

“Like I said, I know you,” he whispered against her ear. “I remembered how much you liked Zairi fruit.”

“You... gave me an aphrodisiac,” she laughed, trying not to think of all the times they'd dared each other to eat one from the bushes growing on his fields, all the times they'd rolled around in the red grasses, all over each other after. Those were memories she wasn't ready for, yet.

And the Master just grinned.

“Like I said. I really needed you to come back for more.”


	30. Morning Kisses

The Doctor had been wrong – Watching your mistake kill people or knowing your mistake burnt down your planet wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

Waking up to your mistake the next morning and realising he was still there, somehow made it far, far worse. Like it was real. Like it was something she couldn't run away from.

And she couldn't, quite frankly, as they were in her TARDIS. Yaz and Ryan and Graham sleeping a few rooms further down the corridor. Knowing nothing.

God, she hoped they knew nothing.

Had he called her? Had she called him? She doesn't even remember. Did it matter? In the end, it still led right here, to this very place, in the end she still gave in to him.

As she always did.

The Doctor had expected him to sneak out in the night, to be gone when she woke up, but nope. Here he lay. Next to her, legs clamped around the blanket rather than her, arms wrapped around her pillow – He'd used the night to systematically free her of any- and everything fluffy.

She poked him, cautiously, into the hip. Once. Twice.

There were claw marks still on his skin, where she had bored her fingers into when he had... The Doctor cleared her throat, quickly turning her head.

It didn't do, she thought, to repeat mistakes that early in the week.

She turned around again slowly, hair falling into her face as she leant over him. There were gentle scratch marks still edged in his skin on the back. His hair was tousled up, and when she turned just _so_ , there were bite marks on his lips, currently healing.

She'd got him good. They always liked to play it a bit rough, though, she supposed they needed it, to somehow make up for both knowing they were making a mistake. To maybe forgive themselves.

The Master's eyes snapped open and she had to admit, she'd have preferred to not be caught in a completely compromising position like her face hanging millimetres away from his, eyes pinned to his lips.

He was going to get so many wrong impressions.

A sleepy smirk spread on his face.

“Want a reprise, do you?”

“Absolutely not,” she brought out, quickly straightening to escape these brown eyes – they were unfairly sweet on such a horrendous person.

He grabbed her wrists before they were out of reach, pulling her back onto the bed and falling all over him with a swift yet forceful drag.

“Ah, but still you're so conveniently naked,” he grinned. “And conveniently on me, too.”

The Doctor gingerly rolled off him, turning back to glare at him and suddenly found her face right next to his, looking into those eyes and she remembered now, it had been no one calling, just him standing in her door, looking like this. All pretty and wanting and warm and... and... it had been a moment of weakness. One she would not care to repeat and...

His lips met hers, soft, warm, dry from the night, beard scraping her chin almost tenderly.

She backed away from him and fell off the bed, scrambling back to her feet quickly before he got any _ideas_.

“What are you doing?” she asked, frantically, as she tried to find her shirt to finally put on some clothes.

“Sorry,” he grinned with the air of someone who was definitely not sorry. “You just look so cute in the morning, all satisfied with me all over you.”

“You've got me all over you,” she quipped, because somehow, it felt like a good idea, but his grin only grew.

“That too.”

Damn him. Damn him. Damn _him_.

“Well, you've got to leave,” she tried, changing tactics. “My friends are going to wake up soon, we've got plans. You're not invited.”

The Master chuckled.

“Yeah, I don't want to.”

“What?” the Doctor spluttered, standing back up, still utterly naked. “What do you mean you don't want to?”

“I don't want to,” he shrugged. “Your bed is comfortable and you look fantastic. Anyone told you that?”

No one had.

She didn't care, of course.

It was nice too hear, but she didn't care.

Didn't care that the most beautiful man she's ever seen thought that she looked fantastic.

“Doesn't matter,” she called out, hand raised in victory. “Because I'm not going to be here. I'm going out with my friends.”

“Oh, they're gonna love the hickeys.”

“The what? No!”

She let her hand drop to her neck, feeling for sore spots. Okay yup. Yup. ... and yup. Three hickeys. He'd been busy.

“Yes,” he just grinned. “Told you. Got me all over you today. Should just stay in bed with me.”

He patted the – very narrow – spot of bed next to him.

“Absolutely not,” she replied, shoulders hanging slightly. “I've got better things to do. People to save. I'll just wear my scarf.”

“Ah yes, see, you could do that,” he replied, smiling. “Or...”

Within a moment, he had jumped off the bed, swift like some predatory animal, grabbed her and pulled her back down with her. She squeaked as she hit the mattress, and he crawled on top of her, grinning wildly before kissing her again, lips brushing hers feather-lightly.

“We can't... we're not... having any more... sex. It was a mistake. Surely, you agree.”

“Not really,” he muttered, lips busy kissing the corners of her mouth. “But we don't gotta, it's fine. We can absolutely just make out... a lot.”

She wanted to reply something but her words got stuck in her throat from the beautiful feeling of his beard scratching over her neck, as his lips found one of her hickeys and _sucked_.

It was soothing and painful at the same time.

She raised her hands to his hair, to pull him off, but somehow that intention got lost on the way and instead she just let her hands run through his brown locks, pulling him closer.

The chuckle against her neck was hot and beautiful and when he wandered up again and his lips found hers, she felt herself giving up.

So what if they stayed her for another few hours. She could just tell the fam she hadn't slept well. Could just snuggle in here with him. Maybe get some breakfast out of it. He was warm and in a cuddly mood and she so loved him in a cuddly mood.

They had made this mistake often enough for her to know they were rare.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, rolling him over so they lay side to side again, smiling at him and he smiled back.

“See?” he whispered, his nose touching hers. “See you'd get around eventually.”

“Less talking,” she grinned. “More kisses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was that. I ended it rather soft than with the bang I would've hoped to, but in all fairness, the chapters I put most effort in always got the least engagement, so it's probably for the best lmao
> 
> Thanks for everyone sticking around, commenting, reading in silence, thanks to everyone, really. I never thought I'd manage this lol I wrote every chapter (with exception for Coffee Shop because I was *so* excited about that lol) on the same day it came on and I probably couldn't have done it if I wasn't in Home Office, yet here we go.
> 
> Honestly, the daily comments and encouragement meant so much. I just had so many people commenting every day and you've done me a world of good, peeps, thank you so much. <3
> 
> .... I don't know why I'm giving a whole speech as if I didn't start my new daily chapter Spydoc project tomorrow. I am shameless LMAO
> 
> If any of y'all wanna tell me which one was your favourite, go ahead, consider it a reader's survey. Personally, I'm torn between roadtrip & piano.


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